


Collection of Marvel Reader Inserts

by wolfeylover



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV), Thor (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfeylover/pseuds/wolfeylover
Summary: This is a collection of both old and new reader inserts for all kinds of characters in the Marvel movie universe and the X-Men movie universe. The stories are in chronological order as I wrote them so I like to think that the later ones are better than the earlier ones.





	1. Pillow Piles (Pietro Maximoff)

**Author's Note:**

> All works found here can also be found on my tumblr imaginethatawriter(.tumblr).(com)
> 
> Summary: Your boyfriend walks in on you having a very stressful day. Being the caring boyfriend he is, Pietro builds you a comfy fort and forces you to take a break. 
> 
> Translation: solnishk- sun/sunshine

Working at Stark Industries was a hard and often exhausting job even for a simple secretary like you. It made you appreciate days like today even more. Lying next to Pietro in a pile of pillows he had created and existing in a state that was between awake and asleep, you were finally able to relax the muscles of your fingers and back that had been stiff and cramped for over a week. One of the man’s arms is wrapped around your waist and his other hand lazily runs through your hair.

You and the new Avenger had met during an uneventful day in the building when Pietro had run straight into you causing all of the papers you were holding to fly into the air. Before the papers could even touch the ground they were all gathered back up into a stack, a messy stack but a stack, and were being held in the hands of an incredibly handsome man. From there the relationship between you and Pietro consisted mainly of Pietro knocking things out of your hand and catching them so he had a reason to stop and talk to you.

Two years later and the two of you spent almost every single one of your days off together. This morning he had rushed to the front door of Avengers tower and picked you up bridal style before running back to the lounge. Traveling in Pietro’s arms always left you a little dizzy but never failed to put a smile on your face. He barely said hello before he was off again leaving you looking at a wisp of blue showing where he once was. For the next minute you watched as the pile of pillows from the hundreds of guest bedrooms grew until both you and Pietro could sit in the middle of the pile with plenty of room to spare.

Pietro shifts you in his arms so that you’re pressed closer to his chest. “Are you still awake Solnishk?” he asks soft enough that you’re half asleep mind almost didn’t catch it.

“Yeah I am,” you mumble.

“So how was your week?”

“It was ok.” You respond without looking up from where your face was lying against his chest. “Really tiring and my hands have been sore for days.” At this comment the hand that was tangled in your hair moves to grab one of your hands and begins massaging your palm.

“Stark should give you a real break sometime soon.”

“No there are way more people who deserve a break more than I do. I’m fine really, Pietro. I can handle a little bit of stress. Plus Mr. Stark doesn’t actually run the company anymore so he can’t help it.”

Pietro nuzzles his head into the junction between your shoulder and neck. “I hate to see you stressed when I visit.”

“Then stop visiting during the busiest parts of the day,” you reprimand while laughing. “You must just have some born instinct to come say ‘hi’ while I’m trying to check fifty people in and handling another twenty phone calls. Come and see me either early in the morning or at the end of my shift. That’s when there aren’t many people to deal with.”

His sigh sends a breath of warm air across your neck. “Fine, I will do that.” You both sit there in silence for a few minutes as Pietro continues to work the soreness out of your hands. His hands were absolute magic and after a while you could barely feel the pain that had once plagued you. Finally you pull your hands away from his and flex your fingers.

“Good as new. Thank you for the attention.” You place a soft kiss on Pietro’s lips.

“Anything for my solnishk” You roll your eyes at the sappy pet name but smile at him.

The speed demon sits up in the pillows and looks down at you. “Now that you’ve rested we can do something more fun, yes?”

Seeing an opportunity to tease Pietro you stretch your arms above your head and settle deeper into the pillows. “I dunno. I’m still really tired. I might just stay here the rest of the day.”

Instead of pouting like he normally does he falls on top of you stopping himself from smothering you with only his forearms.

“We could go to your favorite ice cream place. I’ll even carry you there.” You are pleasantly surprised that his breath still smells like peppermint, but that doesn’t stop you from lightly pushing his face away from yours playfully.

You make a show of thinking about his suggestion and finally look back at him. “I suppose I could get up for ice cream.” Pietro smiles showing his white teeth before picking you up in the same way he picked you up from the front door of the building and running towards where you would spend the rest of your day off.


	2. Central Park (Thor Odinson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You introduce Thor to your favorite place in New York; Central Park.

With your hand in Thor’s you felt absolutely tiny. His closed fist engulfed nearly your entire hand, but it also made you feel the safest you had ever been. You were currently showing the Asgardian around New York and decided to take him to Central Park for lunch. For Central Park it was relatively empty with only small lines in front of the food vendors.

“So these birds rely solely on humans to survive.” Thor had been fascinated to find that the pigeons in New York did no sort of hunting; instead they survived on human’s scraps.

“For the most part yes. A lot of the time they’ll root through the trash that people leave behind and some people feed them out of their hands. Ok so the food here may or may not be to your liking, but I figured you could try it and see.” You let go of his hand so that you can order the food from the vendor and dig the appropriate amount of money. You hand Thor his food and take a small bite of your own before walking back onto the paved path. You watch anxiously out of the corner of your eye to see if Thor likes the food. You try to convince yourself that it doesn’t matter if he likes the food, because honestly the food wasn’t that great, but you would still feel bad if you had given him something he didn’t like.

You are half-way through your plate of food when Thor throws his disposable plate in one of the trash cans that are spaced throughout the park. “So how did you like it?”

“It was no Asgardian feast, however, it was much better than Tony Stark has ever created for the team.”

You laugh from the bottom of your stomach. “Well that’s good. I’ve never eaten Stark’s food before but I imagine it’s not good.”

“You are not wrong.” 

The two of you pass by a small lake with a number of small duck families swimming in the water. You take Thor’s arm and guide him over to a bench in front of the scene. “Let’s sit here until I finish eating.”

Thor’s hand strays up to tuck a piece of your waist length hair behind your ear. “One day You will have to let me braid your hair as Asgardians do. It’s rare to see Midgardians with such long hair.”

“I prefer it long. But you should absolutely braid my hair some day. I don’t do much with it since it’s so long so having someone do it for me would be a fantastic break.” Thor chuckles.

It only takes you a few more minutes to finish eating your meal and then you both continue on your walk. As the time gets later more people show up to the park with bicycles, running partners, or dogs. The path you are on takes you through a small patch of trees and then opens out into a large field where couples and families are playing together or having picnics.

“You look like you wish to join them.” You turn your head to look up into Thor’s face. He’s looking at you with a mixture of teasing and worry.

“It would be nice to come and hang out with people sometimes, but there aren’t many people who I think would come out here with me. Everyone is just so busy.” In response Thor only hums so you take the lead and start walking down the path again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A few days later you sit in front of Thor on the couch as he artfully twists your hair into an intricate design of braids. Most people pull and tug on your hair to get it to cooperate, but you can hardly feel it as Thor wraps the final band around the end of a braid. You stand and move to the closest mirror in the building to admire the masterpiece.

“This is absolutely amazing Thor thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it. Now I was wondering if you would like to go to the park again?”

You spin around so that you’re facing him. “I would love to.” He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the building. It takes you about ten minutes for the two of you to get to the park. Thor seems to know where he is going so you decide to follow him instead of leading him around for once. When you see the green in between the tree line your face breaks into a huge smile, but you don’t say anything.

Thor leads you into the field and sits down facing away from the sun. You sit down next to him and lay back in the grass.

“I can’t believe you remembered me saying I wanted to come here.”

“Of course how could I not bring you? You seemed very sad to not be able to come often.” You close your eyes and bask in the warm sunlight. You sit there for so long you think you’d fallen asleep, but when you open your eyes the sun hasn’t moved much. You look over to Thor who is sitting and watching the people in the park with a content look on his face.

“We should do this on a regular basis.” You say even though he isn’t looking at you.

“I would be honored to come here with you on a regular basis.”


	3. Don't Need a Plan (Stever Rogers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're well known throughout SHIELD as being an agent who disobeys orders. You're effective but you get sick and tired of listening to some superior tell you what to do. When you're put on a mission with Captain America he get's a taste of just how strong-headed you can be. Luckily Steve is known for being just as stubborn.

The infiltration team sat around the roughly sketched map of the house carefully going over every possible escape route and plan of action. The amount of time they were spending was slowly killing your soul, but it seemed like you were the only person who was bothered. The plans they were coming up with were weak and had little room for movement so if something unexpected happened everyone was screwed. Including the super solider, Steve Rogers, standing to your right. He was just standing there listening to the squad leader speak about back up plans that wouldn’t even work in most cases and not saying anything. This fact bothered you almost as much as the plan itself. He was the guy who led the Howling Commandos into battle right? He could have come up with much better plans you were sure of it. Maybe even plans you would have been willing to follow.

As it was you had already decided to follow the idiot leader’s plan for a few minutes until you got where you needed to go and then you were going to do what you thought was right and jump into the situation without a plan. The only way to take out so many people at once was to go without a plan and adapt to the situation.

Your attention is brought back to the leader when he makes an announcement for everyone to go get in their positions. You’re left with a group agents that all seemed ready to go in with a fight. Your team has to trek through the forest surrounding the stronghold. The leaves on the ground crunch under every foot and there was nothing that you could do to muffle the sound. The closer you get to the stronghold the slower everyone’ s footsteps become in an effort to not sound like a herd of agents. Everyone crouches into the leaves and freezes in place waiting for the signal to be called over your earpieces. Several minutes crawl by when finally the code word is said and everyone springs into action.

You cross the small clearing that stands between the forest and the strong hold. In almost perfect synchronization the team raised its guns and took out the guards standing on the roof keeping watch of the building. You pick up your steps and move yourself to the front of the pack so you can place the breaching charges on the door you were supposed to enter. You twist the locking mechanism on the device and turn your back so that any shrapnel would hit the armored part of your combat suit and not the less armored front. As soon as you hear the small explosion to turn back around and throw the door open.

In typical raid fashion you swing your gun in wide arcs making sure that no enemies would catch you from surprise as you entered the building. Now that your job of opening the door was done you move out of the way and the rest of the team moved forward. You fell into step behind the last agent and carried on with your systematic sweeping of your gun from left to right. You passed several doorways and thought of the layout of the building that was shown in the drawn map you had seen earlier. Mentally you counted down the hallways until you would split from the group and go on your own mission.

Finally the time came and you silently slipped away from the group into the hallway that led to the center of all the illegal activities taking place within the stronghold. Along the way you crossed paths with a number of enemies that you took down swiftly. You were feeling confident when came across the door that opened onto a catwalk that was supposed to go over the center of the complex. You pause here to gather your thoughts so that you wouldn’t be walking into the fight with a cluttered brain. The only plan you had was to take out as many enemies as possible and hopefully kill the leader of the operation. You take one more deep breath before you slowly open the door. The only person on the catwalk is a single guard directly in front of the door. You drag him through the opening and leave him unconscious on the other side of the door so none of his friends would see his body from below before you were ready to be seen. You walk confidently onto the catwalk not bothering to sneak around. If the people below expected a single man dressed in black to be patrolling the walk then they wouldn’t bat an eye at you. From this height they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between your uniform and their own.

As you walk you look out on the sparse amount of enemies stationed around the room hurriedly packing experiments as quickly as possible. The majority of the fighters were more than likely occupied by the rest of your group. You also saw who you assumed was the leader of the operation standing on a slightly raised floor and yelling orders in French. You count how many people you can see so you can keep a track of how close you were to finishing up the job.

You spin around descend a few rungs of the ladder at the end of the catwalk until you can get your hands on the outer poles. You take a few seconds to look down at the floor below before taking your feet of the rung and placing them on the outside of the ladder. Rapidly you sink to the ground slowing down as near to the floor as possible. As soon as your feet hit the ground you pull your gun from its holster and shoot at the three men nearest you.

As soon as your third bullet was out of the chamber you duck behind a metal crate at your side. You listen as bullets ring against the metal of the crate regardless of what was inside it. You sense a small break in the fire and move from behind the crate shooting as you relocate to a new crate. However, half way to your new location you spot a familiar outfit of red, white, and blue. Captain America was already in the middle of the room using his shield to knock out several men at a time.

One enemy agent attempts to sneak up on the superhero but you don’t let him get far. The gunshot caught the attention of Steve and your eyes locked, his wide in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

“Apparently the same thing you’re doing. Finishing the mission better than the rest of the team can.”

“Yeah and what happened to the plan?”

“What happened to your part of the plan?”

“I had a better plan.”

“Oh yeah?” At that moment men who had previously been on the ground got back up and attempted to attack the two of you. You kicked out and caught one of the men under the chin before spinning around and hitting the other with the butt of your gun. “I also had a better plan. It’s called no plan.” Out of the corner of your eye you notice the leader’s frantic movements as he attempted to leave through the ruined doorway that you assumed Captain America had entered from. You turn to face the man before pulling your guns trigger. In an instant the man is on the ground holding his knee in pain. “And don’t give me that grab about how my going off the plan could have jeopardized the whole mission because it would have worked out even if you hadn’t shown up.” You lock eyes with Steve once more expecting him to look mad, but instead he’s looking at you with a blank expression.

Before either of you can say anything else the leader of the entire operation steps through the doorway and nearly falls over the man rolling on the floor. “You two! I didn’t take this job as task force leader so that two of my fighters could run off and do their own damn mission.” You roll your eyes. You’d received the speech many times before and you hadn’t been kicked out of the organization yet.

“Sorry sir, but I knew that a lot of suffering could’ve been saved if I went ahead and completed the mission myself.”

“Well that’s just great for you Captain, but what’s your excuse?” he says pointing a finger in your direction. “You’re known for not following directions. This might just get you suspended.

You open your mouth to tell him you’d never been suspended before, but Cap answers for you. “She was with me.” The leader drops his arm in exasperation.

“Well that’s just great. I have a taskforce inside another taskforce.” You smirk at him, because you know he can’t argue with the Captain. No one argued with Captain America.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..

The next day you’re called into the office of your task force leader. You expect to receive some sort of notice that you’re on your final warning, but when you enter the office the man looks more annoyed then made smug.

“You called me?”

“Yes. I want to start by saying what you did during your last mission was unacceptable and your attitude about the situation is even more unprofessional.” You shrug your shoulders.

“But that’s not why I called you here. Captain Rogers has selected you to be a part of his special task force. One that he is leading.” Your eyebrows rise up in surprise. “You’re supposed to meet him for your first mission briefing in three hours.” You nod in way of good bye and leave the room.

Three hours later you step into a room full of agents you don’t recognize. “Welcome the team Agent (L/N)” Steve stands at the front of the room in civilian clothes. “I expect you to follow my plans though.”

“We’ll see.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Several months pass and your unique team of hand selected agents becomes the most efficient and successful team of the organization. For the most part you do your part and follow the established plans, but there were occasions where you made your own call. You later found out that that was exactly the reason you were included on the team.

“I can’t believe you ran into that generator without any kind of plan.”

“Can you really not believe it, Steve? Or do you just wish I didn’t.”

“A little bit of both. It still surprises me when you do something without thought.”

“Give me a little credit. I think about what I do. I just don’t plan every little detail. Like you take me on dates and you know exactly what’s going to happen. We go to dinner and then we go get ice cream. Or we go to the movies and then we go get dinner. But with me I take you to a café and figure out where the world takes me. Maybe we go to the park or maybe we go somewhere farther away. Doesn’t matter to me because I know it’ll be great either way.”

“Well I guess that explains why we are heading to the pound to walk dogs.” You look over at him and open your mouth. “Not saying this isn’t a great date idea. I love dogs, but we were just at a horse show. It’s kind of random.”

“As I recall you told me you liked my randomness when you asked me out the first time.”

“I will not deny that.” You chuckle. “I love everything about you except your tendency to run at deadly things without me knowing about it.”

“Aw you’re making me blush.”

“Shut up and keep driving. I want to pet cute animals and forget about how little you listen to me.”

“Oh my goodness. Such language in the presence of a lady.”

“How did you pick that up?!”

“You’ve always told me how well I would get along with Stark.


	4. So Same, So Different (Pietro Maximoff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a part of Hydra's experiments alongside Pietro and Wanda. You couldn't say that you were close to the twins but they might say hello if they said hello to you. Actually, scratch that, they'd probably yell at you since you work for the Avengers now. The world is a complicated place and things are rarely as black and white as they seem.

When the first explosion rocked the base you were trapped in, you were huddled in a corner of your cell trying to remember your home. It got harder and harder as the days passed by and the amount you forgot concerned you. You stand from your sitting position and look towards the glass windows of your cell. You stand in place and continue to stare out of the glass expecting some Hydra agent or anyone to come rushing down the hall and take you away.

You’d felt many small explosions from a variety of Hydra experiments, but none of this size. Add the fact that the Maximoff twins, who were normally in cells like yours, were nowhere to be seen, and you were certain something was wrong. Hopeful thoughts of rescue flew through your head. Maybe finally you could be saved from this horrible experiment you had signed up for. You would never forget what a big mistake signing those papers was. Or maybe you would, considering how quickly you were losing your memories recently.

The shaking of the building continued and yelling voices echoed to your cell, but you didn’t see any of the fighting. After almost half an hour of anxious waiting a voice echoed down to your cell.

It started undistinguishable but eventually sharpened into words you understood. “…just going to check. Maybe there are other experiments.” You move to the glass window that separates you from the hall. “Hey! Is anyone down here?” The voice is much closer now. It’s American and sounds vaguely familiar, but you can’t figure out where you’ve heard it before.

You almost call out that you’re here. That you need saving, but instead you ask, “Who are you?”

“My name is Tony Stark. Are you with others or are you dangerous to me in any way.”

“I’m alone and I don’t think I’m dangerous.” Now you hear footsteps coming closer until a walking metal suit turns the corner. Your mind finally made the connection between the name Tony Stark and your memories. Everyone knew who Iron Man was.

“I just got a report of a bunch of kids giving the rest of my team trouble. Do you fight like they do?” The man’s voice comes out with a slight metallic undertone.

You shake your head. “No, I mean yes I was experimented on like them, but I don’t fight.”

“Ok I’m going to bring you back with my team. Go get behind that bed. I’m going to shatter this glass.”

When he says he’s going to bring you back to your team you find yourself wondering if they will be any better than this place. They might want to experiment on you just as much as Hydra did, but at this point you didn’t have any choice. You hurry to crouch behind the bed and seconds after you crouch down glass if raining down on the floor and being thrown against the wire door that is behind you. Once the glass has settled you stand back up and follow after Iron Man.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

You ended up being taken back to the Avenger’s headquarters with the rest of the minor agents. You almost have a panic attack when you’re taken straight to a lab to do standard blood tests and you don’t calm down until you’re in a private room with new clothes. The room is sparse and the clothes are bland, but they are both much nicer than what you had become used to.

Over the next few days you are bombarded with questions about what Hydra did to you, how well you knew the Twins, and how much you knew about the other experiments Hydra was running. For the most part your answer was, “I don’t know.” You were never given much information on what they were doing to you, and since you didn’t cooperate with their violent training you were given no information about their other experiments. The only place you were able to give some answers was the Maximoff twins. The three of you talked on occasion through the walls of your cells, but you couldn’t call you their ‘friend.’ They would have been able to recognize you and they might treat you cordially if you ever met, but beyond that you were nothing to them.

You couldn’t even answer the questions the agents asked you about your past. You repeated the phrase, “I don’t remember” so many times it had lost its meaning. Most of the time you sat on the bunk in your room and thought about what was going on in the outside world, but sometimes you were escorted to the science labs to figure out what Hydra had done to you.

“So as far as you know, what powers have you developed because of the experimentation?”

“General manipulation of space. Like being able to warp objects to other places instantly. I can also change how fast something moves through space. The Hydra scientists were always talking about how I could change the amount of space between atoms somehow so I think I could do more. I just haven’t learned how.” It was always so difficult for you to explain your powers to others. It seemed like you were contradicting yourself. How could you warp things from one place to the other if you were only supposed to be able to change space between atoms? It didn’t make much sense, but the people you talked to seemed to understand enough.

One day you walked in to find yourself being questioned by Bruce Banner. You hadn’t thought you were interesting enough to warrant the attention of the Avengers. The day continues to get even more surprising when you’re asked to join the Avengers in the hopes that you can talk to the Maximoff twins if you run into them. You try to tell them that you hardly talked to them while you were in the Hydra base, but they didn’t want to listen. Or maybe they were simply down to their last resorts. Since you’re going to traveling with the Avengers while they’re fighting you have to learn how to defend yourself, but you feel like you need to do more. Your trainers ask if you want to fight alongside the Avengers because they were trying to save the world, but you tell them that you didn’t want to fight with the Avengers. You wanted to fight for the civilians. You didn’t want to battle robots to save the world. The idea of it was too much for your mind to handle, but you wanted to save individual people. You wanted to help the people that got stuck in the middle of everything and couldn’t stop the destruction that happened around them. You expect to have to argue your point, but the agent you talk to takes it well, and even goes as far as thanking you. You expect he has a personal connection to the type of situation you talk about, but you’re thankful no matter the reason.

You spend the most time you can in the gym training to fight if it’s needed. By the time you’re sent on your first mission you’ve gained some serious muscle mass. The Avengers are going after Ultron where he’s storing massive amounts of Vibranium, but your mission is to find one of the Maximoff twins and talk to them. Ideally you would convince them to turn against Ultron.

The group arrives at the grounded cargo ship. Steve briefly lays out the plans. The rest will fight Ultron and you stay out of the way until there’s a good opportunity for you to talk. From there things quickly go to chaos and it’s difficult for you to stay out of trouble. You find yourself using your powers more than ever before to slow down bullets coming your way enough to duck out of their way. You even slow down bullets heading in the team’s direction to help them out. Using your powers brings a fantastically horrible plan to your mind. If you needed to talk to one of the Twins you would prefer to talk to Pietro and if you could slow him down you would definitely grab his attention.

You turn your attention to the blue blur that is leaping around the room. You focus on the movement a pull back on the man causing him to slow down. It’s draining, but you manage to get him down to almost normal speed. You feel your concentration slipping and before you know it Pietro escapes your powers and suddenly you’re grabbed around the waist and taken to an abandoned room. You’re set down and when you look up from the ground Pietro is standing across the room looking steadily at you.

Time seems to stop as your eyes meet. The sounds of battle sound distant from inside the abandoned ship room. “What are you doing here?” he asks in his heavily accented voice.

“I could ask you the same question, Pietro.”

“You could, except I asked first.”

“I’m helping the Avengers.”

“So you tell Hydra you won’t fight, but for SHIELD you will?” The accusation coming from him sounds so angry you’re caught off guard.

“Hydra’s goal and SHIELD’s goal are very different Pietro. And I think you know that. What’re you doing here? Finally getting your revenge on Stark? I thought you would understand that Ultron is trying to destroy the world. Or are you that caught up in your past.”

“What would you know about my past, about the suffering my sister and I have been through? Hydra helped us gain the powers we needed to avenge our parents. You know nothing about what it feels like.” His voice gets louder as his speech progresses and when he finishes you let a few seconds pass before you say anything.

“You’re right. I don’t know what that feels like, because I can’t even remember if I have a family or not. Hydra took that away from me. Whatever they did is causing my memories to fade away. Hydra isn’t good Pietro. I know that you feel like they did you a favor, but you were just an experiment to them. Another weapon.”

The anger in his face seems to fade away but he seems desperate to hang on to that fury. “And SHIELD is so much better? You are here fighting because they are telling you to. What happened to the girl who claimed she hated fighting?”

“I’m not fighting because I was told to Pietro! I wasn’t forced into this position. I was given a choice. I chose to fight, but I don’t fight for SHIELD. I fight to protect all the civilians whose lives are in danger because most superheroes can’t protect everyone. I told them that I will not fight bad guys because of some quest to save the world. But I will protect the people who need to be protected.” You take a break and Pietro maintains his silence. “Pietro, SHIELD isn’t bad. In the past it was corrupted by Hydra agents and yes it didn’t have the best intentions. But it’s changed! They’re more focused on helping the world now. And not by killing people before they’re actual threats. Please, Pietro you have to believe me. We didn’t talk much in that Hydra base, but you have to know that I was not happy there. I am happy with SHIELD.”

Pietro’s look of anger fades into one of inner conflict and his eyes look everywhere in the room as he thinks about what you’ve said. Finally with a look of sadness his eyes land back on you. “I’m sorry. I can’t join SHIELD. Wanda and I have to finish what we have started.” Your hopeful look turns into one of defeat. You thought things were going so well. “Stay safe, (Y/N) . After what is to come I will find you and maybe we can get to know each other some more, without all of this conflict.” Through your disappointment you’re able to give the silver haired man a small smile. “Ok Pietro. I’ll hold you to that.”

Before anything else can be said, he disappears in a show of blue light. With your mission complete you spend the rest of the mission moving from room to room looking for any people who had found themselves in a bad situation. Everyone you saw had weapons and was already disabled so you mostly stayed out of the way of the actual fighting.

After the mission you were taken away from the Avengers so they could recuperate from the attacks that Wanda made. Apparently your warning of Wanda’s mental manipulation did nothing to prepare the group and you were glad you were not among them. The next time the Avengers leave you don’t go with them. Your usefulness had apparently run out. At least that was what the negative part of your brain wanted you to think. The hopeful side of your brain, however, told you that the Avengers had been extremely rushed to get to the sight of all of Ultron’s plans.

However short a time you had known the team you sat anxiously in your room waiting for the world to end or for your friends to die. When they return you’re one of the first people to great the members who weren’t immediately sent to the infirmary. When you see Wanda your heart drops, because Pietro isn’t with her.

“Wanda!”

“(Y/N) , Pietro told me you would be here. He said you had betrayed us. He didn’t mean it though.”

“Well I did join SHIELD, but I wasn’t trying to betray you two.”

“I know and he knows also.”

“Where is he?” Wanda’s face falls into a deep frown.

“He is in the infirmary. They do not know if he will make it.”

“He will,” you say with confidence. “If anyone can survive near death it’s Pietro. And I don’t even know him that well.”

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Three days later a random agent shows up at your door. “Pietro Maximoff will not stop demanding to see you.” Nothing else is said and he walks down the hall. You shrug and quickly jog to the infirmary. Seeing Pietro stuck in a hospital bed was extremely disturbing, but he seemed perfectly fine. You walked to his bedside and sat in a chair that was already pulled up. The speedster looks over to you and gives you a smirk. “So how about getting to know one another. The doctor’s say my bullet wounds are almost completely healed thanks to my advanced metabolism.”

You roll your eyes and smile as he easily pushed himself into a sitting position. “I can’t believe you ran in front of machine gun bullets. I know you’re fast but you’re not that fast.”

He shrugged. “I learned from someone that keeping civilians safe was important.”

You push your palms into your eyes. “Please don’t tell Wanda that I was the one that almost got you killed.”

 

He laughs and the sound is music to your ears after thinking you would never hear his voice again. “I won’t tell as long as I can take you out to coffee as soon as I’m out of these stupid clothes,” he says picking at the hospital gown he’s wearing.

“You don’t even have to black mail me for me to say yes.”


	5. Jerk (Grant Ward)

The medbay was your least favorite place to be and you found yourself there way too often. You were the person who jumped in front of bullets for other people and volunteered for the dangerous jobs. Obviously it wasn’t the best way to stay safe, but if you wanted to stay safe you wouldn’t have joined SHIELD in the first place. A line of friends streams through the door to visit you and make sure your broken ribs were all right. You greeted everyone with a smile and tolerated the small talk for a little while before you told them you were tired and sent them away. There was a particular person that you wanted to see, but he hadn’t shown his face yet and as the hours ticked by you doubted that he would.

Finally as you settle into the blankets to go to sleep someone knocks quietly on your door.

“Come in!” Agent Ward walks through the door and your heart rate monitor starts beeping rapidly. Your eyes widen and you quickly try to mask the sudden increase in noise by shuffling around in your bed. “Ward. I didn’t think you’d ever come to visit me.”

“And be the only person not to visit you. No the rest of the team would kill me.”

A weird sort of chuckle made its way out of your throat but you cut it off quickly when your ribs screamed in protest. “I’m so honored.”

“If you hadn’t jumped off that horse you wouldn’t even need visiting.” You roll your eyes at the comment.

“You say that almost every single time I get hurt and I will say the same thing back every time. I do what needs to be done and if I get hurt it doesn’t really matter because that’s what I joined SHIELD to do.”

“You don’t have to throw yourself into danger every mission. That’s not what SHIELD is about.”

You tried to breathe deeply to keep your heart rate down, but you were quickly losing your temper.

“You know, I have Coulson to tell me that I put myself in danger too much. I don’t need you to join him.”

"Eventually something is going to go wrong and you’re not going to be able to sleep off your wounds. Your friends will be visiting you in a body bag.”

“Well maybe you should watch out for yourself! I haven’t died yet and I don’t plan to any time soon!” You finally lose your cool and shout at Ward. For an instant you see a flash of regret pass over Ward’s face before anger takes its place.

“Don’t expect me to be upset when I hear you’ve gotten yourself killed.” He leaves the room, shutting the door with more force then was necessary. You slump back into the pillows of the hospital bed. Now that the man was gone you regret all the harsh words you said to him. Almost every interaction you had with him ended in a screaming fight and it was always about how often you got hurt. You suspected it was because he was just concerned for your safety but it was possible you were projecting your crush on him. You cover your eyes with the heels of your hand and let out a frustrated groan.

With your frustration out in the air you settle farther back into the blankets of your bed and turn onto your side to sleep.

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“What was all the screaming about?” Simmons asked from her position over a microscope. Ward moved away from the door of your private room farther into the lab to distance himself from the source of his frustration.

“I was just trying to tell her she needed to be more careful.”

“Didn’t sound like it to me,” Fitz on the other side of the room comments.

“Well Fitz you weren’t in the room were you?”

“Now Ward. No need to get testy we’re just concerned for both of you. You’ve been arguing a lot more than usual.” Simmons looks up from her microscope to give Ward a sympathetic look.

Ward looks to the ceiling in annoyance. “Don’t be concerned.”

"Ward if you’re going to crush (Y/N) with your feelings do it more quietly. Maybe she’ll actually listen.” This time Fitz cuts in with his own comment.

“Beyond partnership I have no feelings for her.”

Fitz thinks for a second before turning to Simons. “Can you go and get more slides from the cargo boxes?” Simmons nods with a knowing look in her eyes and leaves silently. Once the female scientist is gone, Fitz turns back to Ward. “Yelling at someone isn’t the best way to show that person that you like them.” Instead of beating around the bush like Fitz normally would, he says exactly what he thinks.

Ward narrows his eyes at the smaller man. “And you would be the expert on this stuff? Because for some reason I doubt that.”

“Actually, Simmons says that you show all the signs of a person who has a crush on someone, but I guess you wouldn’t believe her either. If you don’t want (Y/N) to hate you stop yelling at her and talk to her. Apparently she likes you back so don’t ruin it.”

Simmons comes back into the lab and Fitz steps silently to her to pick up a stack of translucent slides from her hands. Ward quickly leaves the lab when the two pay no more attention to him. The man doesn’t want to believe the advice Fitz gave but part of him, the logical part, knew that Fitz was right. He had admired your willingness to jump into dangerous situations from the first mission you were a part of with him. Since then his admiration of you had grown into romantic feelings and he no longer liked how you jumped into danger. He started becoming more and more protective of you in his own mind, but he wouldn’t do anything but chastise you every time he thought you did something dumb. Suddenly Ward thought back to all the times he had yelled at you and how for a split second every time something changed in your eyes. The look was always quickly covered up with your stubborn glare, but maybe his yelling was driving you away more than it was protecting you.

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After the argument you didn’t see Ward again. Part of you was glad that you could finally rest without the warring thoughts in your brain, but the other part of you wished he would visit again. If he visited that meant he cared about you right? Even if the other members of the team made him visit, he was a stubborn person and no one could make him do what he didn’t want to do. As soon as you were allowed out of your private room you started regaining the muscle mass you had lost while recovering by running around the Bus and hitting the punching bag. As much as you wanted to hit as hard as you could your ribs still burned with too much movement.

It was during one of your fighting sessions that Ward walked down the stairs to the cargo bay where you were working. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye waiting for him to comment on how you were struggling.

“If you came down here to tell me I need to get back into bed because working out with slightly bruised ribs is stupid then don’t bother because I’m not listening.”

The agent raises his hands in a show of surrender. “I just wanted to offer some help. I won’t say you need to stop.” You drop out of your fighting position and consider him for a minute.

“All right fine. What do you want to help with?”

"You’re fighting form. May I?” he motions to you and you drop into your fighting position again. He moves to stand in front of you and makes small tweaks to your stance. “This should take most of the pressure off of your ribs. It’s a little less powerful, but you won’t break your ribs again.” You take a second to memorize the stance before you move to the punching bag and taking a few hits. You have to admit that the pain in your side is almost completely gone.

“Better?” 

You nod. “For once your advice is actually worth taking.”

He gives you a half hearted glare but you only smile back at him. The tension that had entered your shoulders at the thought of fighting with him again melted out of your muscles and you returned to your workout. Ward moves to stand behind the bag to keep it from swinging.

“So how come you didn’t come visit me again? That room got real boring.”

“The last time I visited it ended with us yelling at each other. I decided I didn’t want to upset you anymore.”

“Well that was considerate of you. Thanks.” Ward doesn’t say anything back to you and you finish your workout in comfortable silence.

Over the next few days you continue to workout with Ward as your wounds heal completely. It’s not long before you’re back in the field doing the work you love to do. You notice that Ward no longer yells at you any time you do something dangerous. Instead he sticks by your side and works with you. The two of you become a team that can’t be stopped.

The perfection of the situation doesn’t last. The next time you’re in the med bay Ward starts to lecture you the same way he always did. Before he can get far into the rant you cut him off. “Ward I thought we had finally gotten passed this, but apparently we haven’t. I thought we were a team, but it’s starting to feel like you’re treating me like a kid. I can protect myself and I don’t want to hear this lecture. I don’t want to hear it ever and I don’t want you to treat me like a kid.” Your voice remains steady and once again regret appears on the agent’s face. This time, however, the emotion stays and he doesn’t do anything to hide it. The man takes a deep breath before sitting in the seat beside the one you were waiting in.

“You’re right.” The simple statement causes your eyebrows to shoot upwards. It wasn’t normal for him to admit he was wrong. “I’ve been trying to keep you safe since we first met and I didn’t know it was really upsetting you until the last time you were recovering. I’m sorry I’ve treated you like a child. I didn’t want to tell you before but the reason I’m such a jerk to you is because I like you.” The end of this sentence comes out very matter of fact and blunt. “You know in a romantic way not just a partner way.”

"Yeah I get it.” You say in a sort of daze. You’d never imagined this would ever happen and now that it was you didn’t know how to react. The silence between the two of you becomes chokingly awkward before you decide on what to say. “Actually I like you too,” you finally get out. Ward shows no sign of being surprised by this, instead he just nods his head a few times.

“So…do you want to get lunch the next time we land?”

“Sure! Seems like the only proper way for you to pay me back for all that time being a jerk.”


	6. The Old Flame (Steve Rogers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a really good Agent. Like really good. In fact, you're so good that a lot of Hydra agents have a grudge against you. This becomes very obvious when a huge group of your old classmates gets kidnapped by an annoyed Hydra agent. The appearance of your old boyfriend makes things more complicated than they should be. Especially since he just won't leave you alone.

Your feet glide across the padded floor, maintaining contact at all times. The soldier across from you stays on his toes with the opposite tactic in mind. You circle around each other waiting patiently for an opportunity to attack to arise. You see a lapse in your opponent’s concentration as he delves into his own thoughts for a strategy to take you down and you lunge to the right of the man. You align your shoulders and using your left leg, you sweep his legs out from under him. His knee buckles and he begins falling sideways but he rolls into the fall and comes out of the roll standing firmly. After you make the first move the fight is a quick succession of you throwing punches and him parrying your moves. You manage a few square hits to his vulnerable abdomen, before he adapts to your boxing style of fighting and anticipates where your hits are going to land.

The match eventually ends with you holding the soldier in a choke hold lying on the ground with your legs keeping his arms pinned to his sides. “All right all right you got me!” The blonde man releases his grip on the arms around his neck and you follow his lead, untangling your legs and letting him sit up.

“Will you ever remember that I don’t fight like Natasha?” you ask with a laugh. Steve Rogers rolls his eyes and offers you a hand. He pulls you up with ease and you both walk off of the training mat side by side.

“You don’t exactly look like a heavy weight boxer.” He tosses you a clean towel which you use to wipe the sweat droplets that have gathered on your face.

“And that is why I have never failed a mission. I’ll meet my match one day.” Before either of you can retire to the canteen as is your daily tradition your watch beeps. A string of numbers appears on the screen resulting in a groan from you.

“Shit I have to go get a mission.” You look over at Steve to see that his watch has an identical string of numbers. “Looks like you get to miss dinner too.”

Director Coulson waits for the two of you in his office where he stood looking over a holographic map of data files and graphs. When Steve pushes the door open, he waves both of you to stand next to him. He points to a line a photographs floating in front of him.

“Do you recognize these people?” You think he’s talking to Steve, but when you turn your head he’s looking at you.

“Um no I don’t think so?” you answer vaguely.

“Well a Hydra agent who we have been keeping tabs on has kidnapped all of these people at a high school reunion and took them to an abandoned warehouse. He contacted us through a secure webcam connection and gave us an ultimatum. (Y/N) meets him at the warehouse to turn herself in or all of them die. So naturally I have questions about what connection these people have to (Y/N).” Now both the Director and Steve are looking at you.

You let out a deep sigh. “All right,” you give up. “Those are my friends from high school actually. I haven’t seen them in something like ten years though. How did he know that I even had a connection with them?”

“Hydra has an endless supply of information from the beginning days of SHIELD. You’ve been taking down a lot of their best agents lately so they’re trying to get under your skin, by digging up old relationships.”

“Well they sure aren’t messing around. Twenty whole people?” Steve crosses his arms examining the pictures closely.

“Even if these people weren’t my friends I’d have to go save them. That’s too many people to just leave for dead.” You let your steel mask fall away to reveal the worry that was circling in your mind. The familiar faces bring up light hearted memories that you had had to forget in order to live in the new world that you had created. “When do I head out?”

“Right now. And Captain?”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re going with her. Keep out of sight and try to get to the hostages without letting the Hydra agent know.” Both of you nod and the leave the Director’s office heading to the hangar.

Once the large cargo jet is in the air, a set of destination coordinates appears on the planes computers. The flight is mostly silent until you’re over halfway to the destination.

“So besides these people being your friends what kind of relationship did you have with them?” You look over at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“Does it matter? I haven’t talked to them in years. Whatever relationship I had with them is gone. They might not even recognize me.”

“I get that but were any of them more important to you? Like a boyfriend or something?”

You give Steve an incredulous look. “Would you ask Natasha these kind of questions Steve?” You turn your head to look back out the front window of the plane. “It doesn’t matter what kind of relationship I had with them once. Yes I may have dated one or two of them, but that’s not part of the equation anymore. They’re all civilians that are in danger and they have significance to me anymore.”

Steve smartly doesn’t respond to your answer.

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The jet is parked over a mile away from the warehouse disguised by a thick cover of trees and the cloaking device. You walk with Steve in almost complete silence. It’s only broken during the breath discussion of your strategy. You are the first one to scout out the warehouse. You keep your eyes peeled for any surveillance cameras or alarm systems. Surprisingly there are no visible alarm surveillance systems, and you’re more convinced that this plot was made in desperation. You’re walking back to the entrance of the warehouse when Steve’s voice enters your ear through the small earpiece you wore.

“I have eyes on the hostages. I’m ready on your signal.”

You grab onto the edge of the rusted door of the warehouse’s back entrance and wrench it open. The noise that comes from the decrepit hinges makes you cringe. The inside of the warehouse is just as worn down as the outside and, as you suspected, there was no sign of any alarms. When you take your first steps into the building, your footsteps echo loudly off of the steel walls. Suddenly, you realize why there was no need for alarms.

You follow the short hallway into the open area that was dominated by wall sized doors. A single man in a Hydra uniform stood in the center of the room with his back towards you. “I am honestly surprised you showed up. I would have put my entire illegal stock share on you not showing up.” He addresses you without turning towards you. You don’t respond to his comment and he finally turns to you. “What significance do these people have to you?” You maintain your silence. “Was there a boyfriend in the group? A girlfriend? Maybe a best friend? Anything?” He begins pacing towards you and the closer he gets the more obvious his features become.

A jagged scar runs across his face disfiguring his mouth and nose. His hair is cut in a harsh military style and a few days’ worth of facial hair is spread across his chin.

You give up no territory as he gets closer to you. “They are simply civilians. They hold no significance to me. You took too many people at once. Should have been more subtle.”

“There was no need for subtlety. I accomplished my goal. You’re here aren’t you?”

“Your goal was to appeal to my weakness and take me down in a lapse of clear thought. Your goal is not accomplished. Surrender now and you will not be hurt. I will take you into custody and you will remain in a secure SHIELD facility.”

Not surprisingly he lashes out at you as he has finally gotten close enough to you to strike. However, you anticipate the move and block his swing with your forearm. You throw your fist towards his face with your unoccupied hand, but he blocks your swing in the exact same way that you blocked his. The fight continues but neither of you can get the upper hand. If you land a hit then he also lands one.

You both break away and stand a few feet away from each other panting. “See! I know all of your moves. You’re boxing style might confuse the other rookie agents, but I grew up as a boxer. You aren’t going to win this fight.”

You simply narrow your eyes at him before doing something way out of your normal fighting. You jump at him, grab onto his shoulders, swing yourself around, and lock your legs around his waist. You take his head between your arms and tightened your grip on him, until your arms were shaking from the force and he was clawing at your arm to get free. You’re able to maintain this position before he throws himself backwards onto the ground. The force of the fall and his weight on top of yours pushes the air out of your lungs and your head knocks against the ground with a resounding thud. You’re vision blurs into one color for a few seconds before details start to return. When you climb back on to your feet the room swings from one side to the other rapidly. You fight to maintain on your feet, but your vertigo over comes you and your tumble to the ground. Luckily your adversary is struggling as much as you are and he is hunched over wheezing to regain his breath.

You get back onto your feet once again and manage to stumble your way to the man on the ground. You throw yourself onto his back and attempt to get him in a position that you’re in control. Instead, the once precise fight turns into a jumbled wrestle as both of you try to recover from your dizziness and gain the upper hand.

Suddenly a loud slam sounds from the opposite side of the open room. Both you and the Hydra agent look up in surprise. You move your head too quickly and your balance is thrown off so badly you can’t even stay on all fours. You fall over on to your side but keep your eyes locked on the person who had entered the room. Steve Rogers stood in a door way that was now vacant of a door with a huddle of terrified people gathered behind him.

“Do you need help?” he asks carelessly.

“Get them back to the jet and then worry about me!” you command, pushing your feet back under you.

Steve herds your old classmates out of the warehouse while you and the man stand up to face each other. The room still swims in front of your eyes, but you’ve fought under worse conditions. Now that the hostages are out of the dangerous situation you’re fighting for survival until Steve returns. You try to be conservative in your dodges, but even being careful every movement makes you sick to your stomach. The Hydra agent is landing more hits than you are and he has fully recovered from your choke hold. But you can tell that he’s becoming more and more desperate to take you down fully. His loosely connected plan was slowly unravelling. You land a hit square on the soldier’s already crooked nose when Steve walks back into the warehouse with his shield in his hand. Before the Hydra agent regains his composure after your hit, he’s knocked out by the super soldier.

You take in a huge sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I don’t know how longer I could have gone without snapping his neck.”

“You look a little green.” Steve circles around you to look for any injuries.

“Yeah I slammed the back of my head on the ground.” You reach around and probe at the back of your skull. You cringe when you instantly feel warm blood. “Shit. Well not only may I have crackled my skull, I without a doubt have a concussion. Did everyone make it on the ship?”

Steve looked you over with a concerned gaze. “Yeah they’re all ready to leave.”

“Ok let’s head out.” You cradle the back of your head and begin walking.

The moment you step into the jet, you are accosted by stares from your former classmates and friends. Silently, you take a seat next to a man named Jacob. You close your eyes as the jet shakes and lifts off the ground, hoping to avoid any questions. When the shaking of the jet subsides you open your eyes again and catch the person’s eyes across from you.

The girl who used to be your best friend hurriedly looks away and avoids your eyes.

“So (Y/N). I thought when you disappeared you had just had enough of Dr. Wesley’s teaching not that you had joined a secret agency and learned how to fight a guy twice your size.”

“Yeah things happened and now I am very different than you remember me.” You try to tell Jacob to shut up in the nicest way possible, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“Yeah you’re way more badass now than you were back then.” You catch Steve glaring at his reflection in the front window of the jet. “No wonder they make you guys wear those tight outfits. You look smokin’ hot.”

Once again you catch your friend’s eye across the aisle as she looks between you and Jacob with unease. At least someone was catching your annoyance.

“Actually we wear these outfits because it allows us to move without much restriction.” You finally answer. Before Jacob can make any more ill-thought remarks, you pull yourself to your feet and walk unsteadily to the front of the plane. You fall into the co-pilot seat and buckle yourself into the seat. You look over at Steve, but he refuses to make eye contact.

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After a silent flight you arrive back at the base and immediately are forced to visit the medical wing. Steve takes the hostages to a meeting with several other agents to find out if they have any valuable information about Hydra. The SHIELD doctors ran you through a series of tests that you were well familiar with, and it was no surprise that the results were that you had a concussion. Luckily though, you hadn’t fractured your skull, and all you needed was a few stitches and some rest.

Once released from the medical wards you make your way to the canteen of the facility. You take your standard place across from Captain America with your tray piled with foods that probably weren’t good for you in the amount that you ate them.

“What’s up with the silent treatment big guy? You a little jealous of my old friend Jacob?” you ask teasingly. The look that crosses his face makes you think he takes the jest a little too seriously.

“Was he an old friend or an old boyfriend?”

“Does it matter?” you ask with a tilt of your head. He doesn’t give any verbal response, but the furrowing of his brows tells you every thing you need to know. You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yes Jacob was once my boyfriend. So young and naïve was I. He hasn’t changed much honestly. Nothing you need to be concerned with.”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you. It was incredibly disrespectful. Men of his age should know the right way to compliment someone.” You roll your eyes.

Though Cap had come a long way in his adaptation to the modern world he still showed his age on occasion. “It’s fine Captain. I am perfectly able to take care of myself and besides,” you continue with a shrug. “Jacob is stuck in his high school years. He still thinks he can get in bed with me, by telling me I look good.” You shovel a spoonful of soup into your mouth and swallow.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with those kind of people at all!” You can tell Steve is preparing to continue the conversation when your watch begins beeping and a familiar set of numbers flash onto the screen.

“Oh my God really!? I can’t get a single meal in this place without being called away on a mission.” You growl deep in your chest. “I’m going to die of brain damage if they keep up with these missions. I’ll be back eventually.”

You rush out of the canteen and move as quickly as you can to the Director’s office for the second time of the day. Inside Coulson and Natasha Romanoff wait for you.

“It looks like we’re paired together again girlie.” You walk up to stand beside her and look at the opened files in front of you.

“The Hydra agent you encountered today was under the command of a more important Hydra agent that goes by the name of Chad Winwick. The agent you brought back was much more compliant than Hydra agents normally are so we expect you two to walk into a trap. (Y/N),” he turns to look directly at you. “I don’t want you to be in the action, but I need you to keep surveillance of the entire situation. Natasha you’re going to be entering the building Winwick is hiding in. We still haven’t found out why these two are working seemingly separate from the rest of Hydra, but it’s possible that they’re both rogue agents that are still assuming the names of Hydra agents.”

You and Natasha nod to indicate that you both understand the situation. "You’ll be taking one of the quinjets. The coordinates will be programmed into the jet as soon as you start it up.”

The routine that you and Natasha have grown into makes the process of gearing up pass in no time and before the hour is up you’re watching the blue water of the ocean fly past under you.

“Has Steve ever gotten really mad at someone who treated you badly during a mission before?” you ask into the silence.

Natasha takes a few seconds to respond. “Not that I can think of. He jumps in if things are getting too rough, but never if it’s just someone bad mouthing me.” You hum in acknowledgment of her answer and let the plane fall silent again. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh he was just getting really defensive because my old high school boyfriend was flirting with me after we rescued them.”

“Well that’s totally different.”

You turn to look at your friend with a raised eyebrow. “How is that any different than what I said?”

Natasha grins over at you with a playfully evil glint in her eyes. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on (Y/N).”

The vague comment makes you shake your head. “Just because you’re super good at reading people’s minds doesn’t mean that I can too. What is going on Natasha?”

“All I’ll say is that now would be the perfect time to confess you feelings for Steve.”

You cross your arms and sit back in your chair with a huff. “You know perfectly well that I can’t do that.”

“Just because it’s against protocol doesn’t mean you can’t do it. There are plenty of agents that have secret relationships.”

You wave your hands in the air. “I’m not worried about the protocol. I break that every other day.”

“Then what are you so worried about?”

“I don’t want my confession to ruin our friendship.”

“It won’t ruin anything. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you to make sure I don’t die. I’m not sure I trust you with relationship advice.”

She looks at you in mock hurt. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because you’re in the same position as me and you’re not following your own advice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your painfully obvious crush on Clint. You guys are practically dating, but neither of you will actually admit it.”

The expression leaves her face and the face she used to avoid questions surfaces. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Clint and I are just friends.”

You slump farther into your seat, unreasonably mad that she could accuse you, but you couldn’t accuse her. “Oh please you and I both know that that’s a lie.”

The only sound that can be heard is the sound of the engines of the jet. “I’ll tell Steve I like him, if you tell Clint you like him,” you offer after sitting in the tense silence for almost ten minutes.

Another couple of minutes passes before you get a response from Natasha. “I’ll only do it if I know that you asked Steve out.”

“Whoah wait a minute!” you jump up in your seat. “There was no talk of asking him out. I just had to tell him that I liked him.” Natasha rolled her eye, but didn’t offer any rebuttal.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.–.-.-.-.-.-.

The mission goes exactly as planned. With you watching the security feeds from the safety of the jet’s cockpit, nothing was able to sneak up on Natasha. However, as the plane landed back at the SHIELD base you wished the mission had lasted longer. Now you had to follow through on your promise to Natasha. The last time you confessed your feelings to someone they had played you like a sucker. You know Steve isn’t like that, but the worrying thoughts still stick in your mind.

You find him walking down the halls towards the personal apartments that every agent had in the compound. There were several people meandering around and you memorized who they were so that Natasha wouldn’t be able to skip her end of the deal.

“Hey Steve!”

His eyes light up when he sees you and the sight makes you think that Natasha may have been right. “Hey (Y/N)! How did the mission go?”

“It went well.” The question you had to ask was in the back of your throat, but your pounding heart was preventing you from saying it. You were a highly trained assassin. You had to use your charm on a regular basis to get what you needed. Why all the sudden was it so difficult to talk. Maybe it was the fact that for once it actually mattered. “Actually I needed to ask you something.”

“Ok ask away.” Steve asked, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“Why were so concerned for me when that guy from my high school was trying to flirt with me?”

Steve is visibly caught off guard by this question. “I was uh…just, I didn’t like the way-“

“Was it because you were worried I would actually consider going out with him?” you cut Steve off trying to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

“No, well-“

“Because if that’s the reason you really don’t need to worry,” you cut Steve off and he stares at you in silence.

“Um ok, but it’s still unacceptable!” You roll your eyes.

Steve was a smart man, but he wasn’t the best at picking up ques in conversations. “Ok listen Steve. I thought I could do this in a suave sorta way, but I guess that’s not happening. I like you and that’s the reason I wouldn’t go out with Jacob.” Steve continued to stare at you so you continue. “I know we go to lunch together almost every day, but I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner? Obviously we could go somewhere a little higher class than the cafeteria, but it doesn’t have to be too expensive.”

Steve’s face goes through a range of emotion before landing on what is supposed to be a relaxed confident look. “Sounds like a great plan, but I’m paying.”

You let out a bark of a laugh. “If that was your idea of a sarcastic answer it needs some work.” Steve opens his mouth to say something more, but you cut him off by pressing your lips against his. Surprisingly, he reacts instantly, moving his own lips against yours. You pull away after only a second of contact.

“Just meet me outside the base at 5, ok?” you ask with a laugh.

Steve nods in affirmation. In a room adjacent to you a loud crash can be heard. The event sparks a rush of adrenaline in you and you yank the door open. What you see inside causes you to spin on your heels and slam the door shut. Steve peers at you with a raised eyebrow. Your quick actions had prevented him from seeing what was going on inside.

“Let’s not talk about it. Natasha and I made a promise to each other and let’s just say that she held up her end of the bargain.”


	7. The Confession (Logan Howlett)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes wrong and you're stuck taking care of a seriously injured Wolverine. You attempt to make him comfortable while he heals, but you can hear the footsteps of the enemy as they search for the two of you.

The plan had broken into shambles. It was never a very solid plan, but you didn’t expect a small bomb to blow the whole thing apart. Your cheek had a gash in it and your knee had been twisted in an unnatural way causing your movements to slow considerably. Moments like these made you realize how much of an advantage your mutant powers were. Any time a soldier with a gun tried to shoot you, you used your power of atomic movement to change the bullet’s course just enough to miss you. Your responses to the danger were getting sluggish though, and you could feel the bullets as they passed millimeters from your skin. Somewhere farther in the crowd of enemies your partner Logan was cutting down men to get to you.

This was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. You had been promised there would be no fighting. Honestly you hated fighting, which made your place on the X-Men a little weird, but you made it work. Your concentration was broken by a loud yell that came from the other side of the room. The cry was laced with pain. You gathered your waning energy and pushed outwards. The soldiers in the room flew backwards and slammed against the far wall. A door opened and reinforcements attempted to push into the room. Instead, the door slammed shut with such force that the frame cracked. Using the small window you had, you run to Logan’s side. All of your conviction is pushed out of your body when you catch sight of Logan’s injury. It looked like one of his legs was about to fall completely off.

Normally you could stand guard over him while his advanced healing took care of the injury, but it looked like this injury would take a while. You forced yourself to look away from the injury and wrap your arms around Logan’s shoulders. You must have jostled him, because he stiffens beneath your grip. You didn’t have time to explain your plan so you closed your eyes and ignored Logan’s questions. You forced all of the chaos around you out of your head. You focused all of your energy on moving every single atom that separated you and the basement two floors below you. When you opened your eyes again, you were sitting on the dirty stone floor with Logan beside you. Already his blood was staining the stone red.

“Where did you move us?” Logan asked between his teeth.

“The basement. I don’t have a lot of energy left so I couldn’t move us very far.”

“The backup is nearby?” You nodded

Just looking at your partner’s injury made you want to puke and you wished you could help, but the best thing for it was to not mess with it. You could already see the tissues knitting themselves back together.

“You look like you’re watching a dead body.”

You looked at Logan with a raised eyebrow. “If you were anyone else you would be dead body. The only reason this happened,” you said gesturing to the leg. “Is because you got stuck protecting the one member of the X-Men that’s almost useless.” Immediately you regretted your words. It sounded like what person seeking pity would say, and that was the last impression you wanted Logan to have.

“Forget I said that.” Moving quickly you positioned yourself behind Logan so that you could support his weight. That way he wasn’t struggling to hold himself up with his arms and keep himself as still as possible. He hesitantly put more and more body weight on top of you until you were completely supporting him.

“You tell me who told you you were useless and I’ll have a serious talk with them.”

You let out a sigh. “No one has said anything to me you don’t have to fight anyone, Logan.” There was a forced break in the conversation as footsteps pounded against the floor above you. Even after several minutes of silence had passed you didn’t resume the conversation, however, Logan had different plans.

“You’re not useless.” He said gruffly. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“I never said I was useless. I said I was almost useless. There’s a difference.” Logan had no answer to your snappish reply and silence returned to the basement. Without warning one of his hands reached backwards and grabbed one of your own. His grip was strong, but it was a comforting sort of strength.

“(Y/N) I need to tell you something.”

The sound of heavy boots came from the stairs leading down to the basement. “Do you think you could tell me later?” You tried to untangle your hand from his, but he only strengthens his grip.

“No it can’t wait.” He climbed to his feet and dragged you up with him, showing off his almost healed leg. There was still a large gash where the gaping wound once was, but there was no sign of the bone beneath the muscle tissue. “Y/N I love you.” Before your eyes can widen his lips are pressed against yours in a desperate show of affection. Your heart stopped, but the sound of the Trask soldier’s footsteps forced you into action. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and pulled yourself as close to him as possible. You wanted time to stop so that the soldiers would never get to you, and you could stay this close to Logan forever.

“Wow! Making out behind enemy lines. There has to be an award for that or something.” At the sound of the familiar voice, you pushed away from Logan and whipped around to face who was in the room. Bobby Drake stood at the front of the group of backup with an annoying smirk on his face.

“Shut it Iceman. We were almost killed because you didn’t get here quick enough.” Logan snaps without appearing to be fazed by the interruption.

“You guys seemed to be doing fine.” Bobby didn’t seem too bothered by the death glare he was receiving from both of you. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders. “We took care of the rest of Trask’s soldiers and the getaway vehicles are out front.” You and Logan join the group and leave the bodies of the unconscious soldiers behind as you escape the building that had seemed so dangerous moments before.

Everyone filed into various models of unmarked cars and quickly drove away from building before a similar group of reinforcements could arrive for the enemies. Your car passed the city limits before Logan grabbed your hand and held it tightly. It was a silent signal that the moment in the basement wasn’t just an act of desperation, but an act of true feelings.


	8. Netflix and Chinese Food (Frank Castle)

A tense silence stretched through the small apartment. The only noise that could be heard was your boyfriend’s occasional quiet grunt of pain. You were cleaning the last of the Punisher’s new injuries while distant police sirens served as your background music. You toss the bloody wash cloth into the dirty clothes basket across the room.

“Nice shot,” the man beside you mumbles. You say nothing in return as you continue to clean up your collection of medical supplies. Frank must sense your displeasure because he gently grabs your arm to keep you from getting off the couch and storming out of the room. “Hey, I’m sorry.” His hand slides down your arm until his fingers become intertwined with yours. “I didn’t mean to skip our date. Something came up. I had to take care of it.”

You want to stay mad at him maybe even argue with him some more, but the sad expression on his face was too genuine for to stay angry. You reach out and ghost a finger over an old scar that is almost completely healed. “How do you still get hurt despite wearing the toughest form of bulletproof gear?” There’s a small smile on your face to let him know that you forgave him.

“Can’t cover my entire body. I gotta be able to move.”

“Fair enough.” You untangle your hand from his and stand up from the couch. He pulls a t-shirt over his head follows you. You grab your cellphone off the counter, where it was abandoned when Frank had stumbled into your apartment.

“So I got my paycheck today.”

“Yeah?” He wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head into the crook of your neck.

“So which Chinese place do you want to order from tonight?” You can feel his lips pull into a sideways smile.

“What did I do to deserve you?” It seems like he asks that question a lot and while sometimes it’s serious but tonight it’s just a joke.

“The world may never know.” The two of you stand like that while you order your food. You recite the same meal that Frank gets every time while you consider trying something new. In the end you get the same thing that you always do. You finish cleaning the room and putting away supplies while you wait for the food to arrive.

The two of you eat the food while sprawled out across the couch. His feet are propped on the coffee table and yours rest in his lap. There isn’t any argument about what you’re going to watch for the rest of the night. You know that he doesn’t want to watch anything too serious and neither do you, and even though he groans at your choice of Fuller House, he accepts his fate. By the second episode all of the food is gone, even the leftovers from your meal have been eaten by the endless metabolism that is Frank Castle. You readjust your position on the couch so that you’re leaning into Frank with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. His calloused fingers dance lightly across your shoulder drawing pictures that you can’t make sense of. His steady breathing lulls you into a place between reality and dream. You only half realize that the TV is turn off, and it’s only when Frank jostles you slightly that you realize you were even asleep.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, while he moves the both of you around.

It takes a few seconds for you to process what he says and by the time you do you’ve already stopped moving. Now you’re lying on top of him and his feet are hanging off the side of the couch. He drapes a blanket over the both of you and wraps his arms around you stomach, making sure you won’t roll off of him in the middle of the night. The security provided by his arms and warmth that radiated off of him pulled you into an even deeper sleep. The last thing you feel is him pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.


	9. It's Not a Lie (Frank Castle)

Your feet rest in Frank’s lap and your back presses against the armrest of your couch. All of the lights in the apartment are dark and the only source of illumination is the television set. The show that’s on isn’t capturing your attention and Frank is staring blankly at the screen. Discarded containers of fast food litter the coffee table and the lingering smell of cheap Chinese food fills the room.

You admire Frank’s face while he isn’t paying attention, drinking in the sharp cheekbones and the angled nose. You notice that his hair is starting to curl, meaning he’s due for a haircut soon.

Frank finally notices your staring and turns his head so that your eyes meet. “Something wrong?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh nothing” you give him a wide smile. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

“Mhm.” The way he turns his head back to the TV and the curt answer cause you to pull your feet off of his lap and sit up straight.

“What? Do you not believe me or something?” you ask in a teasing tone despite being completely serious about the question.

“I’m sure you believe it.” You tilt your head in confusion.

“I don’t think I understand.”

Frank shrugs and continues to watch the TV for a few minutes. After minutes of contemplation he looks back at your waiting eyes. “You might have convinced yourself that you love me, but you can’t really love me.”

“Are you serious!?” Your voice rises in pitch and volume and you almost stand from the couch in your shock. “How could you say something like that? Of course I love you! You can’t just convince yourself that you love someone. Come on, Frank. You know this.” Your sentences are chopped and it’s difficult for you to keep your thoughts straight.

He watches your internal struggling before half rolling his eyes and looking away from you. This is just his new defense mechanism. The new way to protect himself from reliving the horrors of his past. But this time you can’t let him get away with it. This wasn’t something that only affected him. It affected you too. You grab his chin and turn his head so that he’s facing you.

“You know this is kind of insulting. If you think that I’m some weak child that doesn’t know it’s own feelings, you’re wrong. I spent months agonizing over the fact that I was in a relationship with a serial murderer. This,” you gesture between the two of you, “wasn’t some random mishap. I’m serious about this. I love you, Frank.”

The man’s eyes remain trained on yours, but his expression doesn’t change. Slowly he raises one of his hands to encircle the wrist of the hand that’s holding his face in place. He pulls your hand away and tangles his calloused fingers with yours. He stares silently at your tangled hands. Finally he looks back up at you and you see that the edges of his eyes are turning red.

He lets his jaw hang open slightly as he tries to tell you what he’s thinking. “Sometimes I just…am scared…that,” he takes a deep breath and you see the air escape in shaky bursts. “I’ll lose you. My nights are filled with different ways that you leave or die and I don’t think…I can do it.”

You knew that the man was having issues tonight, but you weren’t equipped to deal with something of this magnitude. But you would try. Your clasped hands are lying in your lap now and you stare down at them for a few seconds. You rub your thumb over the back of his hand before bringing his knuckles to your lips.

“I can’t chase away your nightmares as much as I wish I could, but I can promise you that I won’t leave. I love you. For real, Frank. I’ve never loved any of my other relationships like I love you.” You shift yourself so that you’re sitting in Frank’s lap and you wrap your arms around his neck. You hold him tightly for several seconds before the vigilante returns your affections. He wraps his arms around your waist and draws you closer to him. He hides his face in your shoulder and bunches your shirt in his fists.

You sit in silence for minutes without either of you breaking away. You can feel Frank’s unsteady breathing against your chest. The TV continues to drone in the background, but your focus is on the man that you’re comforting. Finally Frank’s hands release your shirt and his head moves so that you’re foreheads are touching.

“I love you too, you know. You put up with my shit more than anyone should ever have to. Thank you.”

You don’t feel like you can respond with words only. You move the small amount needed to press your lips against his. You end the kiss quickly but you maintain the closeness. “I’m not sticking around. Anytime that you’re afraid to lose me know that I’m not going anywhere.”


	10. Size Is Only a Number (Pietro Maximoff)

A burst of light strikes the cobblestone ground a couple feet to your right. You abandon the fallen stone wall and sprint across the city square separating you and your partner. The energy beam follows you closely, urging you to sprint faster. You can feel the tingle of the electricity on the back of your calves. Then your feet are swept off the ground and your back is pressed against a new wall.

Your silver-haired partner is suddenly next to you in the same position.

“How many times do I have to ask you to tell me when you’re going to pick me up and take me somewhere.” The sound of the energy beam disappears and a suffering silence takes its place for the time being.

“Next time I’ll let you get hit by the energy beam.” The end of his sentence is cut off by the return of the deafening hum. The building next to you erupts into spidery cracks that expand until the building crumbles. By the time the first chunk of the building hits the ground you and Pietro are standing by a different wall across the town.

You peek around the brick wall to catch a glimpse of the weapon that was causing the destruction. It was mounted on top of the tallest building, controlled by a man named Taylor Donoldson. You didn’t know why he was destroying the town or what kind of energy his weapon was harnessing. All you knew is that it needed to stop before any more buildings crumbled.

“I’m going to try and get to the top of the building. I need you to run through the buildings that haven’t been evacuated yet. There are still people in danger of being killed by that beam, or worse, crushed by a building.” You unclip one of your expandable staffs from your belt and quickly check over the rest of your suit. If your cousin’s designs were as solid as you were told, the beam shouldn’t damage you.

You take a step away from the wall when Pietro grabs your arm. “Be careful. I’d like to have someone to go to dinner with at the end of this.”

You give him a silent smile before securing the faceplate of your armor into place. You sprint into the open, heading towards the building holding the weapon. At the base of the building you uncap one end of your staff and aim the grappling hook at the top of the building. You shoot into the air, feet hitting the side of the building to keep you on course. In seconds you’ve reached the roof where the humming of the energy beam engulfs any other noise.

With the beam pointed in the opposite direction you have a clear shot at the weapon. You lunge. Midair your chest explodes into a blinding fire. The force of the impact throws you backwards. Your helmet cracks against the roof and your ribs burn. Donoldson stands near his weapon with a gun in hand. You promised to thank your cousin for the pierce resistant suit.

“Stand down! I’m taking down you and your weapon, so come quietly and I won’t have to fight you.”

The man makes no comment. He simply points his weapon at you again. All it takes is for you to block two bullets with your staff before you shove your weapon into one of the panels screwed to the body of the weapon of destruction. Sparks fly from the panel, but the destruction doesn’t falter. While your attention is pointed at the machine Donoldson to punchs the controls of the weapon.

You’re engulfed in the bright light of the energy beam, thrown through the air while all of your muscles feel like they’re being torn from your bones. Your agony lasts for an eternity and finally ends when your body slams against a rocky ground. The light doesn’t leave but the pain ebbs away gradually. The stars in your eyes fade away and you can see the gravel ground surrounding you. How did you get transported from a roof top to a rocky field? You struggle to your knees, careful not to knock yourself around anymore than you’ve already suffered. Before you can further examine your surroundings a large object falls in front of you. The ground beneath you shudders and a dust cloud rushes over you. When the cloud clears you’re staring at giant tennis shoes, highlighted with green. You realize you haven’t been transported. You’ve been shrunken.

You press a finger to the comlink in your ear. “Hey Pietro. I think we might have a problem.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Pietro had to carry you in gently cupped hands all the way back to the nearest SHIELD headquarters. It was a jarring journey and further frayed your shaken nerves. Hours of examination and questions did nothing to help you. The only thing any of the scientists could tell you was that your suit had saved you from being obliterated and had somehow deflected the beam in such a way that it scrambled your atoms into a smaller form. All you heard was that they didn’t know how to fix what had happened.

For the time being you were stuck eating a cracker the size of a bed.

“I feel ridiculous.” The cracker is dry and despite his hard work Pietro hadn’t been able to find a good way for you to take a drink.

“Don’t worry Printessa. You’ll be back to normal before the week is over.” The avenger is sitting in front of you, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. His voice is nonchalant but the lines of his forehead tell a different story.

“Maybe you’ll have to call me Ant-Woman from now on. No more Printessa.” You try to mimic his accent, but it comes out sounding like two different accents at once. You shove the majority of the cracker away from you. The food skitters a few millimeters away from you. “I don’t even have the super strength like Ant-Man does. I’m useless at this size.”

“You’ll be back to normal,” he repeats. “If scientists can make me move faster than a bullet, they can make you big again.”

You look off to the side at the mile that separates you and the end of the table.

“Besides,” Pietro starts again. “You’ll always be my Printessa.” You let out a short laugh and he smiles in response. Looking at him from this angle you saw a lot of details you’d missed. You could see the veins in his neck move when he swallowed and you could see the small movements of his nose every time he breathes.

“I have an unopened box of tissues and cotton balls in my room if you want to sleep.” You squint at Pietro. You can’t tell if he’s making a joke or if he’s being serious. You hate this situation.

“Are you being serious? Because I can’t tell.” A sideways smile increases your belief in it being a joke, but before he can respond a voice crackles over the link that’s still in your ear.

“Agent (L/N), Agent Maximoff, Ant-Man and Dr. Pym will arrive in Lab 8B in five minutes.”

Pietro places an open hand on the table and you step up onto it. With you carefully balancing in his hand, the speedster walks slowly to the mentioned lab.

“If I have to stay this size forever will you still love me or will it just be too weird.” It’s an awkward time and place to ask the question, but you didn’t want to wait until you were told there was no hope.

Pietro doesn’t look down at you. “Of course it’ll be weird.” He scoffs as if this were the most obvious answer. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t still love you. I love my sister right.”

“Pietro, I’m not joking.” You warn.

“Neither am I, Printessa.” You roll your eyes, but concede to his argument for the moment. There’s silence for the remainder of the walk to the lab. The doors to the lab slide open. Just inside the door Dr. Pym stands talking to an already suited up Ant-Man. Both men turn to face the two of you as Pietro walks in.

“Agent (L/N) seems that you’re in a bit of a predicament.”

“You’re as observant as always, Dr. Pym.” Pietro moves to one of the lab tables and moves his hand to table level so you can step off. “Tell me you have some good news for me Doc.” Your heart is pounding inside your chest, giving away the nerves that your relaxed voice hides.

“I think you’ll be glad to know that you’ll be back to normal size in less than five minutes. Scott will just shrink down and use a Particle Disk to enlarge you back to your normal size. Or something close to it.” Pym motions to Scott who simultaneously shrinks and jumps onto the table. In a flash of light Scott is standing next to you. For once in the past twenty-four hours you felt normal sized.

“It’s so weird seeing someone else miniature sized. Sometimes Hope trains with me, but only if I’m not ‘too annoying.’” He uses exaggerated air quotes. “But apparently that is rarely the case.”

“Well don’t get used to it. I’m not fond of this size. I like being able to eat actual food.”

“Fair enough.” Scott reaches into one of the compartments of his belt and shows you the Particle Disk that’s supposed to put you back to normal. “I’m going to throw this at you and when it connects you’re going to grow rapidly. So maybe sit down or something? I don’t want you to go through the ceiling.”

You follow his recommendation and sit so that your feet are facing Pietro. Without any further warning you feel a small projectile hit your temple. This time changing size isn’t followed by unbearable pain. It’s over in an instant. One second you’re craning your head so that you can see Pietro’s face and the next second you’re eye level with him. Immediately he wraps you in a tight hug. The sound of Scott growing back to human size separates the two of you. You jump off of the table and stretch your arms.

“Feels good to not worry about being crushed. Thanks Dr. Pym.” You turn to the man in costume. “And thank you too, Ant-Man. Hopefully I won’t have to get your help again. Even if that sounds really mean.”

“No problem.”

Pietro turns to you with a mischievous smile as soon as you walk out of the lab. “I think you’re shorter than you were.”

You glare at him before pushing roughly against his arm. “You know if you want me to I can tell your sister that you said she was weird.”

“Please don’t. She still hasn’t gotten over the time you told her I thought her outfit was flashy.”

“That was an accident.”

Pietro winds an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. “I’m glad I can hug you again.” He presses a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I’m glad to. No offense but sitting in your hand isn’t much fun.” You lean into him. “Next time we go on a mission I’m not going to run straight at the weapon.”

Pietro laughs. “Good idea. Now let’s go get dinner.”


	11. Code Breaker (Frank Castle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reader for this particular one-shot was inspired by one of my followers cousins. The reader has Aspergers and shows the specific habits and qualities that the original requester told me. But it can still be enjoyed by everyone!

Frank Castle doesn’t make friends. At least, that’s what he would tell you if you ever asked. In reality there are a few people in his life that he would do anything for. People he would lay down his life for and do unspeakable things. You were one of those people, though you didn’t know just how far he would go for your safety.

You’re sitting at your easel painting a colorful landscape when a soft knocking comes from your apartment door. Your service dog stands from his position by your side and stares silently at the door. You do the same, waiting for a second knock to confirm who was on the other side. When that second knock finally does come, you’re out of your seat in an instant. You rush to the door with your dog by your side and peer out the peep hole. Frank Castle stands on the other side of the door with a piece of paper in hand and looking just as exhausted as always.

When you open the door, Frank looks up but makes a point to look into your apartment rather than directly at you. “Can I come in? I need your help with something.” `

You back up a few feet and let the man in. He walks to your rough granite top counter and smooths out the paper in his hands. Written on the stained sheet is a series of numbers interrupted by spaces and dashes. At first glance the numbers appear scattered and random, but when you look a little longer you can see that the numbers form some kind of code. 

Frank gestures towards the paper. “This is part of a case I’ve been working on, but I’ve always been shit at coded messages. I was hoping you could look at it. I know you’re insanely good at math.”

You pick up the piece of paper and look at it for a few more seconds. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Frank says softly before moving away from you and taking a seat on your couch. The cushions dip beneath his weight and he occupies himself by flipping idly through the National Geographic magazine sitting on your end table.

You settle down at a desk that’s nestled in the farthest corner of the apartment and get to work deciphering the code. You pull out a new piece of paper and one of your special pencils to jot down notes. For the first hour, it’s slow going. You stroke your dog’s head while you run through all of the simplest numerical patterns. Once those fail you’re forced to think of more abstract possibilities. It takes nearly the rest of the night for you to finally find the light at the end of the tunnel. It takes a four step process to decode the message, but you’ve finally figured it out. You write the translated message on your note paper and sit back. After a couple minutes of gazing at your handiwork, Frank notices that you’ve stopped writing.

“Hey how’s it going over there? You give up?” Before you can answer, the man stands up and crosses the room to stand above you. “Well shit. I knew you were a genius, but that’s something else.”

You blush at the compliment and avoid making eye contact with him when you hand the two papers back to him. “It could probably be easier, but I wrote down the steps I used.”

Frank folds the papers into sloppy rectangles and tucks them into his pants pockets.

“Thanks again. I’ll figure out how to make it up to you.” The man sticks out his hand in an offer of your customary parting ritual. You take his hand in yours and let your fingers linger on the rough pads of his palm. The gesture is a mixture between the formal handshake that happens between colleagues and the familiar hug between friends.

“Just come over for dinner one night. The company is nice,” you comment after letting go of the man’s hand.

“Sure. I’ll bring food over and we can eat together.” Frank pulls away from you moving back towards the door. “Call me if you ever need help,” he reminds you before pulling open the door and disappearing.


	12. The New Teacher (Logan Howlett)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan does nothing but antagonize you. You’re convinced that he hates you with every single replicating cell in his body, but you’re not as intuitive as you think. Maybe there’s something more to Logan’s unrelenting anger.

“I’m telling you. He’s always rude to everyone.”

“I’ve seen him talk to everyone else, including all of the students. The only person he has never talked to is me.” Your friend Jean opens her mouth to continue her argument. “Jean,” you interrupt. “I know he’s rude, but you have to admit he’s way ruder to me than he is to anyone else here.”

Jean sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just nervous around you so he doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense, Jean. He’s Wolverine. Why would he be afraid of me?”

“I didn’t say he was afraid of you. I said he was nervous around you. There’s a difference.”

Teaching at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was not easy. Every child who came in was unsure and afraid of themselves. Rarely a student had control of their gifts, but most of the time the children were scared and dangerous to both themselves and the people around them. That’s why you came to the school. The discovery of your powers was a dark time in your life and you didn’t want anyone else to suffer as much as you did. Being the newest teacher at the school was rough in the beginning. The other teachers were close and an outsider like you only made things awkward. But slowly you became a part of their inside jokes. 

Still, after almost a year of working at the school there was one man you’d never had a conversation with. Logan Howlett. You understood that he didn’t talk much to anyone period, you can’t help but be jealous of all the short conversations the other teachers have with him. Anytime you attempted to start a conversation he would turn away or answer with single words. 

“Seriously don’t think too much about it. He’s like that with everyone. We’ve just been around for longer so he has to talk to us every once and a while,” Jean tries again, seeing the frustration in your eyes.

You shrug your shoulders. “I just want him to like me.”

Jean reaches over and gently squeezes your shoulder. “If you wait long enough he’ll have to warm up to you eventually. Don’t try too hard.”

Your friend stands up from the table where the remaining scraps of your lunch sit. She walks out of the small kitchen area leaving you alone to think over the conversation. You don’t have another class for an hour so you have plenty of time to sit and stew. Your train of thought it interrupted when the man causing you so much irritation walks through the door. The two of you pointedly ignore each other, but you can feel the awkwardness constricting your chest. You don’t move from your seat and Logan leave the room quickly. The door closed behind him and you release the air that’s been trapped in your lungs. A part of you wanted to force Logan to talk to you, to annoy him so badly that he was forced to at least acknowledge your presence, but another part of you knew that Jean was right. If you were patient enough you would find your place just like all the other teachers. You just had to be patient.

A week passes without any interaction between you and Logan. The two of you pass each other, but you avoid eye contact at all costs. And then one morning you wake up a bit braver. While you’re brushing your teeth, you make the vow to engage Logan in a conversation. The waiting game was a great strategy, but maybe it was time to start pushing. You sit at the small table inside the teacher’s private room. An empty protein bar wrapper lies on the table in front of you and a half full glass of water is hanging in the air in front of you. Jean occupies the seat directly across from you. She shuffles through a stack of papers from the day before. The room is silent aside from the sound of the paper rubbing against each other and the hum of the refrigerator.

The door behind you opens and closes quietly. You don’t move your attention from the blank table in front of you, assuming that if someone wanted to say hi they would simply say it. The greeting that you expect never comes. Jean looks up from her work. Her eyes dart to meet with yours and she jerks her head slightly. You know exactly who is now standing at the refridgerator, but you look anyways. Logan stands with his back to the two of you. When you turn back to look at Jean she’s still staring at you. She narrows her eyes and pointedly shakes her head in Logan’s direction once again. The only response you give her is a subtle shake of your head, but she’s insistent.

You lean back in your chair and let your gaze wander around the room. Jean was right. If you couldn’t even say good morning to the man, how were you going to start a conversation.

“Good morning, Logan.” You finally manage to get out.

The man turns quickly, slamming the refridgerator door and leaving the room with nothing in his hands. The door shuts definitively behind him leaving you alone with Jean again. You throw your arms up in defeat.

“He won’t even say good morning to me, Jean. That’s like the minimum amount of interaction you could have with someone.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Logan is a…” She waves her hands in the air looking for the right words. “complex man. Who knows what his reasons are.”

You pull the glass of water from the air and stand to put it in the sink. “I’ll see you later, Jean,” you say with a sigh.

For the rest of the day you wonder why Logan hates you so much. You don’t remember any interactions you’ve had with the man and you’ve been nothing but nice. Briefly you humor the possibility that Logan has some sort of school boy crush on you.

It’s not for another month that the tension between you and Logan reaches its peak. Logan roughly bumps his shoulder against yours when you were walking in between classes, causing you to whirl around and stomp angrily.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you yell after him.

He ignores your challenge, but you lunge after him and wrap a hand around his bicep. You stop him in his tracks, but he only yanks his arm out of your grasp.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to stop. Stop being an asshole for one minute and maybe actually talk to me instead of ignoring me and being needlessly aggressive.” Students linger in the doorways, watching one of their teachers yell at the most intimidating man on campus.

“How ‘bout you quit trying to start a conversation? Solve the whole problem.”

You glance quickly at the assembling mass of students. You push against Logan’s shoulder and force him into an empty classroom. You make sure that the door is closed fully behind you.

“What’s the deal? I know you’ve got something against me, and I want to know what it is?” You cross your arms across your chest and plant your feet into the ground. As intimidating as Logan was, you had reached your breaking point.

“I don’t like you. Thought I was clear about that.”

You narrow your eyes at the mutant. There was something else going on. It just didn’t make sense for Logan to hate you so quickly and so thoroughly.

“It’s not that simple. Why do you not like me? I haven’t done shit to you. We’ve never had a conversation, there’s no way you can hate me so much.”

A vein on Logan’s forehead jumps out and the muscles of his jaws stand out. “I don’t need a reason. You just annoy me.”

He tries to brush past you and escape the confrontation, but you side step back in front of him and flatten your hands against his chest. Before you can shove him back he grabs both of your wrists and holds you tightly.

“Get out of my way,” he growls, leaning down so that he’s inches away from your face.

“Not until you tell me why you hate me so much, Logan Howlett.”

The two of you stand in the locked embrace for several seconds before Logan finally releases your wrists with a sharp push.

“You wanna know so fucking badly? Fine! You drive me fucking insane and I don’t know why. I can’t hate you even though I want to so fucking badly.” He steps closer to you and grabs you roughly by the shoulders. “I can’t get close to you, because everything I care about is destroyed.”

You wanted these confessions so much in the beginning, but the sudden gravity of the conversation bothers you. You were expecting something simple, not something this…emotional.

“So, you’re just protecting me?” you ask with furrowed brows.

Logan lets go of your shoulder and stands back.

“That’s so…dumb,” you say after a minute to gather your thoughts. “I don’t need to be protected from whatever bad karma you’re convinced you have. Plus, I can defend myself just as well as you could and I don’t even put myself in dangerous situations. So how about from now on you treat me like normal. And maybe next time I say good morning to you, you actually tell me good morning back.”

You don’t give Logan any time to respond. You speed out of the classroom and make your way to the class that you were already five minutes late to. You don’t know how Logan will respond to your speech, but something was going to change. Your students watch you closely when you walk into the classroom and their curiosity is palpable. As much as you hate to disappoint them, this situation is one that will stay between you and Logan. Hopefully in the future there wouldn’t be a need for awkward conversations. Maybe you and Logan would even be friendly. You could dream.


	13. A Child's Intuition (Frank Castle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your five year old son is obsessed with the man who lives in the apartment down the hallway. You on the other hand would rather your son be as far away from Frank as possible. Your warnings do nothing to stop your son from running to the man any time he appears and you have to admit, Frank Castle is growing on you a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S/N - is your son's name

Being a single mom was not easy. Being a single mom in New York with a low paying job was even harder. After years of saving and working overtime you’ finally had enough money to comfortably move into a nicer apartment. All of this was for your son. Your last apartment was abysmal. No matter how much you cleaned it looked dingy and moldy and you wanted so much more for your boy.

Walking into the lobby of the apartment felt like walking into a cool pool on a hot summer day. The building wasn’t perfect, there was still dust in the corners and the paint was peeling a little, but it was world’s better than the last one. Your son struggles to hold up a heavy cardboard box filled with his toys while you juggle your new keys, a small box of electronics, and your phone that was ringing. Some small part of your mind registers that the box is slipping out of your son’s hands, but the dominant part of your brain is too occupied to react to the dangerous situation. The cardboard slips out of your son’s hands, but before his most prized possessions can crash against the ground, a grizzled man swoops down and catches the box.

Your son stares up at the man with his mouth hanging open. Your mind finally catches up to what is happening and you shove your phone back in your pocket before putting your own items on the ground.

“Oh my gosh. Thank you so much.” You move to grab the box from the man’s hands, but he pulls away slightly.

“Need help with these? Don’t want this very important stuff to fall down the stairs.” The man gives extra emphasis to the importance of your son’s toys and the admiration in your son’s eyes grow.”

“I think we’ve got it under control.” This time when you reach for the box the man lets you have it.

“Suit yourself.” You’re surprised that he doesn’t push you further. You watch with an eyebrow raised as his broad form disappears into the stairwell. 

With the box of toys secured in your arms you crouch down and rearrange the boxes you dropped. You offer your son one of the smaller boxes that you were carrying in the hopes that this one wouldn’t be too large for him. Thankfully the two of you climb the stairs without any more dropped boxes. The apartment had already been decorated with your large pieces of furniture. Though the movers left a few new dents in the walls, it looked perfect. You drop the keys on the small table by the door and immediately the place feels like home.

“Can I have my toys back now?” Your son is bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet, gripping tightly to your shirt.

“Yes, you can. Thank you for the help.” You drop the rest of the boxes on the small table before bending to hand the box of toys over. The boy races through the apartment to the room he has already claimed as his own, closing the door behind him. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to settle in to your new home. Your son makes friends with the other kids that live throughout the building, and is excited about the new school he’s going to go to. For some reason though, he can’t forget about the man in the lobby. Every day he asks you about the man; is he ok, could he come over for dinner, what’s his name. Your son is fascinated, but you had the opposite reaction. The encounter leaves you with a bad taste in you mouth. You know who the man is, but you can’t put a name to the face. For days you attempt to ignore the feeling at the pit of your stomach, but eventually it becomes too much. After work you sit down at your old laptop and scour the internet for old news articles, police reports, interviews; anything that would shed some light on the man that lived just down the hall.

The clock on your wall reads 2 am when you finally find a picture. The headline that accompanies it freezes your blood. You were living five doors down from mass murderer Frank Castle. You sit frozen in your kitchen chair as the minutes tick by. The thought of having someone so dangerous right next door makes you want to throw everything into boxes and leave. But you can’t do that. All of your savings had gone into the security deposit and the first rent payment.

Ten minutes pass before you shake yourself from your thoughts and force yourself to get out of the chair. You have work in the morning and you can’t afford to stay up any later worrying about something that might not be a problem. You pass your son’s room and look in to see that he’s sound asleep with his covers twisted around his body. You mechanically follow your nightly routine only to find yourself lying in bed wide awake. You can’t stop thinking. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to sleep. When you finally drift off you’re plagued by nightmares of your son being taken away and your feet being glued to the floor. You wake up at random intervals, tossing and turning and trying to convince yourself to fall asleep for good.

The next morning you have dark bags under your eyes and your eyes feel like sand. It’s a struggle to get both yourself and your son ready for the day.

“Mommy are you all right. You look sleepy.” Your son sits in a kitchen with his feet swinging in the air.

“I’m a little tired, but I’ll be all right honey.”

He continues to dig into his bowl of cereal oblivious to the thoughts that were still rattling through your mind. Despite the rough start to the morning you and your son make it out the door on time. He struggles with a book bag that’s too big for him, but everything becomes irrelevant when Frank Castle steps out of his apartment down the hallways. You’re hand snatches at the bookbag, but the boy is already half way down the hallway.

“(S/N)! Get back here!” But your calls are unheeded and your son runs right up to the Punisher and looks up at him big innocent eyes. Frank looks just as surprised as you do as he looks down at the small boy.

“Mornin’” He says to the boy staring up at him.

Before your son can say anything in response you swoop in and usher your son away. “Come on. Don’t bother the man so early in the morning. We need to get you to school.” You avoid making eye contact and keep a firm hand on your son’s shoulder.

You manage to push your son along and get him to school on time and then you’re at work. It’s an exhausting day. Thirty minutes until the end of your shift and you were asleep on your feet. A man clears his throat in front of you. You force your eyes open and your heart jumps into your throat. Frank Castle looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Rough night?” he asks.

“Uhhh…” you stutter trying to think of an appropriate response. “I don’t know?” Frank’s eyebrows crease together. “I mean yeah, yeah I didn’t get much sleep.” You reach over your station to grab a menu.

“So just you then?”

The man nods silently. You lead him to a table near the back of the restaurant and hand him the menu. Without looking he orders coffee and you gladly take the excuse to get away from him. Your mind has crafted this image of Frank that is violent and rude, but the man who is ordering is polite. A little curt maybe, but overall polite. But you can’t let your guard down.

By the time you return with Frank’s coffee your shift is over. You set the mug down on the table and begin to untie your apron.

“You off for the night?” Frank asks before taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee.

“Yup” you say shortly, folding the apron over your arm.

“You really don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not after hardworking moms and their sons.”

The statement catches you off guard. You stare at him in silence for several seconds while he continues eating as if he’d never said anything.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sets down his coffee mug and shoots you a withering gaze. “You know what I do. IT’s not hard to find out especially with all the fucking cameras and shit that watch the entire city.”

“My son is absolutely obsessed with you. I have no idea why.”

Frank hums softly. “Explains why he ran up to me this morning.”

You nod and stand still for a few more seconds. You slowly step away from his table and eventually make your way out of the restaurant. You park your car near the apartment building just as your son’s bus pulls up at the front of the building. He runs to you and you crouch down so that he can wrap his arms around your middle. On your way up to your apartment, he tells you all about his day. It’s not until you’re unlocking the apartment door that your son asks about Frank. It’s the same question he asked since you arrived at your new home.

Did you talk to him today? On every other day the answer would be no.

“Yes. He was at the restaurant.”

Your son jumps up excitedly. “What did he say to you? What did you say? Did you invite him to dinner?”

You put a hand on his head to calm him down. “We just talked about…work.” You say trying to find some way around the true contents of the conversation. “And no I didn’t ask him to dinner. That’s not quite how it works.”

Days pass by, and you begin to see Frank more often. Frank exits his apartment every morning only to have your son latch onto his leg. For the first couple of mornings you hurriedly pry your boy away, giving the excuse that you have to get to school. However, performing the same act every morning got tiring and eventually you let the boy ask his questions before reminding him that Frank had places to be as well. 

The conversations are always brief, but the way that Frank interacts with your son softens your heart. Frank is dangerous there is no doubt, but you start to believe that he’s not dangerous to you or your son.

“Mr. Frank you should come over to dinner. My mom makes really good food.”

Your attention is yanked away from your cellphone. “Honey I don’t think Mr. Frank wants to come over for dinner.”

Frank chuckles and opens his mouth to respond to your son’s impromptu suggestion, but before he can get any words out your son continues his persuasion.

“But you’ve never seen our apartment. It’s so great and pretty and its clean I promise. I keep my room really clean and-and I got a new train set that I really really want to show you, but it’s too big and-and-and,” your son trips over his words as he searches for any possible reason to get Frank over to dinner.

“All right all right calm down kid. If your mom wants to invite me over to dinner, I will come over for dinner.”

Your son turns on his heels to look up at you with big round eyes. You really can’t deny him this one simple request. You finally shrug. “Well I suppose it wouldn’t be a terrible idea. But you,” you boop your son’s nose gently. “Will have to help me cook.”

Your son jumps up and down, cheering in joy. In his excitement he forgets all about you and Frank and he races down the hall towards the stairs. Before you chase after him you settle the best date for the combined dinner. Your discomfort in the exchange is reflected perfectly in Frank’s expression. At least the feeling was mutual.

When the day of the dinner finally arrives you find yourself much ore nervous then you should be. You’ve hosted small dinners before so the surplus cooking and the obsessive cleaning weren’t the hard parts. It was thinking about the possible conversations that made you nervous.

Exactly how much could Frank even talk about. You doubted that he did much outside of searching and killing criminals. And those kinds of stories weren’t exactly kid friendly. You peak behind your shoulder to watch your son line up his toys in order of favorite. Maybe he would carry the conversation through the entire night. He’s fully capable of talking someone’s ear off. But somehow, inexplicably, you want to impress Frank. Not just with your clean apartment and your good food, but with you intelligence and the conversations that you can carry.

Your thoughts become an endless loop of all the topics you could come up with if needed. Your thoughts began to circle faster and faster until they become entangled with each other. A rough knock at the door jerks you out of your thoughts. For a brief moment, everything is perfectly still. You and your son watch the door as if the instrusion is completely unexpected.

A second knock comes from the door.

You hurry over and open the door to let Frank in. He looks exactly like he does every other day, which at the same time surprises and relieves you. Your brain freezes briefly and you forget that you should probably say hello. Frank doesn’t seem bothered by the awkward silence, instead he hands you a container of chocolate chip cookies.

“Felt like I should bring something,” he says with a shrug.

“Thank you. I’m sure he’ll love you for it.” You step to the side so that Frank can get inside the apartment.

Upon seeing Frank, your son jumps to his feet and sprints to your side. He grabs at Frank’s hand and drags him over to the table where the toys are displayed. You let your son ramble on about the toys for a few minutes before reminding him that Frank was here for dinner not the toys.

The dinner itself wasn’t as terrible as you imagined. Your son talked for the most part, asking Frank questions, telling stories, or just chatting. After all of the food has been eaten Frank entertains your son by explaining how a car works and discussing how amazing Daredevil is. You’re a little unsure of that last one. You don’t want your son to get any ideas of running around trying to stop evil, but he’s having so much fun you can’t push yourself into the conversation.

Your son’s eyes begin to droop and his energy slowly begins to fade away. He struggles to stay awake, to enjoy this momentous occasion for as long as possible. But it was inevitable. It was time for bed. As you herd him into his bedroom he weakly protests. It’s incredible how quickly he falls asleep. When you return to the living room, Frank is looking at the pictures that hang on your walls.

“He’s a very talkative kid,” he comments without looking away from the photos.

You step to his side and look fondly on the memories. “He has a lot of interests that I know nothing about so I’m sure he’s happy to have someone to talk to. I try to keep up, but sometimes it’s just not possible.”

Frank hums in answer.

“Thanks for coming over and entertaining him. It made his week and I’m sure I’ll hear nothing about it for the next month.”

“Any chance that he’ll stop grabbin’ onto me any time he sees me?” Frank asks with one corner of his mouth turned upwards.

“Probably not,” you respond with a similar smile. “And it wouldn’t surprise me if he asks you to dinner a second time.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be a horrible thing.”

“Maybe not.”


	14. A Stray Called Frank (Frank Castle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re the owner of a small, but busy animal shelter that sees way too many dogs for your taste. One day a tall, beat up man shows up with two sad looking dogs. You don’t question their origins, but as Frank continues to show up you start to wonder just how he rescues so many past fighting dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of dog fighting

1st count: 102

2nd count: 102

3rd count: 102

No matter how you counted, no matter how many times you counted, the numbers were inevitable. You were out of space. And two more cars just rolled into your driveway toting along unwanted pets. In your heart you hoped for cats or some other small creature (You could make room for those. You’d keep them in your house if you had to), but you knew that more dogs were coming your way.

You throw down your pencil and release a heavy sigh. Your body collapses under the vacant feeling in your chest. You were sinking. Your entire world was sinking, slowly, constantly, inevitably. But you refused to give up. These dogs needed you and you were the only one in between them and the violently efficient kill shelters. You scrub your face and look through the window at the middle aged woman struggling to pull a cracked plastic crate out of the back of her mini van. You wondered what story you would hear from her.

The puppy was too disobedient and made too much of a mess. I didn’t have time to properly train him.

My kids wanted a puppy so badly, but they just didn’t seem to care for it once it started to grow up.

My boyfriend and I bought him together, but we broke up and I don’t want him anymore.

Just the thought of people’s carelessness made your blood boil. You shove yourself away from the desk and stalk out of the small wooden building that is the center of your animal shelter. You snatch a pair of sunglasses off a rack near the door and step out into the bright morning.

You’d make room.

By the end of the day you had turned away five dogs. And every single one of them tore your heart in half. A nice family covered in tattoos, holding the hand of a bright eyed child stopped by and took home a cat that no one had looked at since his arrival. It was a small celebration in the middle of tragedy.

1st count: 104

2nd count…

The gravel driveway crunches outside of your office, forcing you to look away from your population count. Glancing at the watch on your wrist confirms your initial thoughts. It’s well past ten o’clock. You closed the gates at 8. There was a small chance whoever was in the car was lost, but what lost person went through the trouble of opening a chained fence leading into absolute darkness. You click your computer monitor off. A rifle leans against the far side of your desk and you pick it up if only for your peace of mind. The crunching stops, but the silence doesn’t last long. A car door opens and slams shut in the same moment you open and shut your office door.

“Stop right there!” you shout into the night.

The man facing the back of the car raises his hands in the air. “Whoah, I’m not here to fuck around.”

“Turn around.” You step down from the wooden building and cross the gravel road to get closer to the man. “If you’re not here to fuck something up, why are you here?”

The man’s face is still hidden by the darkness of the night, but his broad shoulders and intimidating height cause your hands to tighten on the rifle.

“I’ve got dogs from a fighting ring. I can’t bring them to the other shelter near here.”

“They from your fighting ring?”

“No.” The response is short and clipped. A man after your own tastes, he seemed disgusted by the thought of being involved in a dog fighting ring. He doesn’t give you any further explanation as to how exactly he came to possess the two dogs currently lying in the back of the car.

You dropped one of your hands from the gun to open the back door and look closer at the dogs. It was a horrible sight. One of the dogs was missing both of its ears and had a large gash across its nose. The other dog doesn’t have any visible injuries but you can see its ribs and pelvis sticking out. The only reaction you have is a deep sigh.

“I really want to help. I really do, but I’m completely filled to capacity and I don’t have the resources or the money to treat the injuries.”

The man slowly reaches into one of his front pockets and pulls out a disorganized wad of cash. “I got money for you to build new cages and pay for vet bills.”

You snatch the money from his hands and flip quickly through the stacks of hundreds. You look back at the man with wide eyes.

“I don’t want this money if it’s gonna get me arrested.” You thrust the stack back towards the man, but he makes no move to take it.

“It won’t. Call it an anonymous donation. Just…help them.” The man’s face wilts when he glances back at the dogs still lying calmly in the back of the car.

You watch the dog’s breath for a few seconds before setting the gun against the car and crossing your arms. When you turn back to face him he’s watching you intently through the low light.

“What do you know about the dogs. Are they dog aggressive? People aggressive?”

“I don’t know a lot. I’m pretty sure they were both bait dogs. Didn’t seem aggressive towards me, but I don’t know about other animals.”

“All right.” You think for a second about how you’re going to handle this. Every thing about this situation was off the books and strange. But one thing bothered you the most. “How come only bait dogs?”

“They were the ones I could get.” A simple and vague answer.

It was dark, late, and you should have been home hours ago. “Ok all right,” you say finally. “Help me get them into the building and I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

You place the wad of cash in your pocket and pick up the rifle. The man whistles quietly behind you and reaches into the back to grab the chains wrapped around the dogs’ necks. You were thankful that the chains were loose. You’d seen too many dogs with embedded collars. Both dogs obediently followed the man and the man followed you back to the office building. The light from inside casts deep shadows on the man’s face and you notice for the first time that there are fresh bruises covering his face and deep cuts on his hands. You also see that both dogs are more emaciated than you originally thought. You close the door behind the dogs and replace the rifle next to your desk. You quickly stash the money in the top drawer. You don’t bother taking the chains from the man, instead you simply unravel the coils around the dogs’ necks and let them have the freedom to roam. Both dogs immediately find separate corners of the room and curl up into tight balls. You don’tt blame them for being terrified.

While you’re busy attempting to gather supplies for the two dogs, the man opens the door and tries to slip out of the building.

“Wait hold on! We’re not done here. I can’t just have to extra dogs with no paper work. Inspectors drop by randomly and these two are going to be here for a while.”

The man hesitates before stepping back inside and closing the door. You want this to be over as much as he does so you grab a release form from the desk top and hand it to him.

“Fill it out as much as you can. I don’t care if you leave some stuff out. I just need some information to show.”

He hunches over the desk and starts scribbling. You rummage through the office to find any kind of spare food bowl or even cereal bowl that you could use to give the dogs food and water. The dog with the missing ears shrinks away from you when you place the bowls on the ground, but the thin dog attacks the food immediately. He wolfs down the portion you give him and starts to slurp the water. You expect the poor guy will have some stomach pains in the morning. The sound of the pen hitting the desk signals the man’s departure. With the papers filled out you don’t care where he goes and with his injuries you know he doesn’t want to stick around.

The door opens and closes quickly and you’re surrounded by the sounds of two dogs eating for the first time in a while. You pick up the random items scattered across the floor and place them in hard to reach places. Despite everything you put away you know that something will be torn apart in the morning. The risks would be worth it though. You’d order supplies tomorrow and start building new shelters by the end of the week.

You’d make room.

Your prediction was almost correct. Your building materials were delivered at the end of the week, but the sudden increase in activity drew the attention of the safety inspector. Entertaining him for the day was nothing but agonizing. He tried to poke holes in every one of your shelters. He looked through all of your release and adoption papers looking for problems. He even noticed the strangely vague papers of the two dogs that were currently hidden in the bathroom of the office. But you were thorough. You’d seen too many animal shelters fail to be careless. As soon as he leaves you start building. At night you spend time with the two dogs; sitting with them, talking to them, petting them when they get more comfortable with you. In two weeks you have enough shelter for ten more dogs. With the money left over you make sure the injured dog gets stitches and antibiotics and the rest goes into your savings. You’d use it before too long whether it was for food or more vet visits.

It only takes three days for the shelter to fill back to capacity. However, along with the new shelters came new interest from the local news. A news reporter shows up at your doorstep early one morning to ask for an interview about your life and work. As much as you hate being the center of attention, you know from experience that news exposure brought many new adopters. You put on your best fake smile and spout out a speech about the great dogs that are abandoned because someone has to move or they don’t want it anymore. You even mention the ex-dog fighters that end up at your shelter wanting a nice relaxing home. It was an exhausting day, but you see the positive repercussions the next day.

A record number of people stop by to look at the animals. A young tabby cat with a missing ear is taken home by a cute little girl in a pink dress and her single father. One of your favorite pit bulls is taken in by an excited college student who excitedly told you about the preparations she’s put her apartment through. A man on a motorcycle unexpectedly falls in love with a small terrier mix and promises to return with a car the next day. And your biggest accomplishment. The one adoption that filled your heart with hope for the dogs left over at the end of the day. The dog that the man, signed Frank on the release forms, brought to your shelter with missing ears and gashes on its face is taken home by a female couple who desperately wanted to help ex-fighting dogs.

You sit back in your desk chair looking at the small stack of adoption forms waiting to be filed. You’ve procrastinated long enough. You scoot forward and pick up the top sheet. It’s a tedious and boring task, but you’d rather stay up late than get up early. The clock on your computer clicks over to midnight when you hear the familiar crunch of tires on the gravel driveway. You feel a sense of déjà vu as you grab the rifle by your desk. When you step onto the gravel, a familiar figure climbs out of the driver’s side door of a truck. A cacophony of barking comes from the bed of the truck.

“Dude midnight is not a good time to drop off dogs. Maybe come sometime when the sun is in the sky.”

“Can’t do that.” Frank faces you with his arms crossed, waiting for you to continue.

“You’re lucky I had a really good adoption day. I actually have room.” You pause for a second as the barking escalates. “How many dogs did you bring? Holy shit!” You move past Frank and peer into the back of the truck. Five dogs in metal crates frantically crash together attempting to get free. Thankfully they aren’t trying to attack each other.

“What’s your excuse this time?” you ask with a bite to your tone.

“Dog fighting ring.”

“Yeah fucking right. Two bait dogs might make sense. Maybe you’re a good Samaritan that just so happened to get lucky enough to get two dogs and live without dying. But five dogs! Dog fighters don’t fuck around. They kill people who steal their dogs. So, tell me what the real story is.”

“They’re from a dog fighting ring. I got them out. That’s what you need to know.” His voice is louder and even in the sparse light of the moon you can see his face twist into anger.

You can’t deny the dogs even if you suspect the man giving them to you is guilty. Without another word you use the tire to climb onto the side of the truck. Looking closer at the dogs you can see that all of them are injured or unhealthy in some way.

“Fine if you’re not going to be straight with me at least help me carry the crates inside. I need to take a look at them before they can go in a permanent enclosure.”

Silently, Frank moves behind you and opens the back of the bed. He single-handedly lifts the cage closest to the back and carries it to the office. He moves so easily it’s frustrating when you struggle to lift the dog out of the truck and carry it to the building. By the time you’ve moved the single dog, Frank has moved three. All of the dogs are extremely eager to get out of their cages and even in the light it’s hard to see everything that’s wrong with them. You rummage through your desk and pull out a stack of release forms. You drop them on the desk and slap a pen on top. You were not happy. Not with Frank, not with the late time, and not with the amount of paper work that was still waiting for you.

You desperately wanted to know exactly where these dogs were coming from, but you weren’t going to get any good information from the man currently signing papers. You would just have to find out by yourself. The door opens and closes behind you.

You spend the night in the office building, getting only a couple hours of sleep before you begin your morning chores. Only two of the fighting dogs need to be seen by the vet for their injuries. The rest settle nicely into their temporary homes. All of them seem relieved to be away from their dark past. In between refilling water bowls and arranging volunteers to walk the dogs, you research recent dog fighting ring busts. You should just let it go, but the idea that Frank is giving you his own fighting dogs won’t leave your mind. Searching the term dog fighting ring bust results in an enormous number of articles across the country. When you search specifically for your area you can see that there’s been a sharp increase in dog fighting busts in the past few months. You open your file drawer and grab the most recent release forms. You flip all the way back to the very first time Frank is scrawled across the top. April 21st.

You type dog fighting ring bust april 21. Into the search bar and stare in amazement at the first article that pops up.

The Punisher kills twenty in dog fighting ring bust

Clicking on the article reveals grainy photos of bodies piled on the ground, empty dog cages, and a blurry photo of an imposing man in a painted leather jacket. An idea starts to form in your head. You flip through your release papers to find the date of Frank’s second drop off. April 28th.

Typing in this date yields a similar result. Another article about the Punisher taking down a local dog fighting ring shows more blurry photos of the carnage left behind. None of the photos of the Punisher are good and none of them show the man’s face. But you know.

The next time you hear tires crunching on the gravel outside you don’t bother with the rifle next to your desk. Outside a beat up mini van with huge dents in the side and with bullet holes in the windows waits for you. The sound of barking dogs is muffled, but unavoidable. Frank steps out of the car.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he asks already moving to the back of the car.

“Not when I know the Punisher is breaking apart dog fighting rings and bringing the dogs to me.”

Frank freezes with his hand on the handle of the back door and the two of stand in absolute silence. The sound of cicadas pounds into your ears. The car door clicking open cuts through the night and the muffled barks turn into distinct howls. And still Frank doesn’t turn to look at you.

“You didn’t bring your rifle out tonight?”

“Nope.”

Frank turns away from the door. The interior light of the car casts deep shadows on his face. “You sure that was a good idea.”

“You said it yourself. There’s nowhere else you can take these dogs.”

The man grumbles lowly before turning back to the crates stacked haphazardly in the back. He pulls two out and sets them on the ground.

“I’m not about to turn you into the police if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Frank let’s out a short huff of air. “I’m not afraid of the police.”

You shrug. “Well how about next time ask ahead before you go and break apart another dog fighting ring. I don’t have the room.”

“I’ve got more money.”

“I could have all the money in the world and no more land to build on, dude. I can’t expand anymore. I’m at my limit.”

Frank whirls at you. “If you’re going to say something, say it.”

“Fine. I don’t want you to stop busting fighting rings. I think the people who organize and participate in them are the lowest forms of beings. But you have to start coordinating with me. I can tell you when I have some extra room in the shelter. You can like give me an email address or a phone number or something so that I can contact you and then just bust the rings when there’s room.”

Frank stares blankly at you. The dogs inside the car begin to calm down so that the sound of cicadas is once again deafening.

“Fine fine,” Frank throws his hands out. “I’ll give you a fucking email.”

“Good,” you say with a smirk, invisible to him.

You work with him to move the three dogs into the office building. In a familiar routine Frank fills out release forms while you give all of the dogs food and water. All three dogs will have to go to the vet in the morning, but they’ll be ok for the night.

“Here.” Frank thrusts a scrap piece of paper towards you. An email address is scrawled across it.

This piece of paper represented the culmination of a dream you’ve had since you were small. Teaming up with the Punisher would finally allow you to stop dog fighting rings. Frank Castle was a terrifying man, but you could tell this would be a beautiful partnership.


	15. The Grumpiest Birthday Boy (Logan Howlett)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been close to Logan for a very long time and you know how taxing his day job is. You’re also one of the few people who know Logan’s actual birthday, so when that exciting day rolls around you decide to buy him a cake and have a small celebration.

The world was an ugly place, especially on the fringes of the cities. It took a toll on everyone, but no one showed the weight of the world like Logan Howlett. You’d known Logan for a long time, and you watched as the world etched more and more cracks into his face and dyed his hair gray. You were one of the few who knew about him and his hidden mutant friends. You battled through his grumpy and combative nature and discovered the hidden kindness.

It took you nearly an entire year of subtle hints and persistent nagging to figure out Logan’s birthday. He liked to use the excuse that he didn’t remember his birthday—that he had never celebrated his birthday. But eventually he gave you a date. It was probably made up, but you held on to it. You were determined to celebrate with him. Maybe to offer some kind of brightness in his otherwise grim existence.

On the big day you handmade a birthday cake that any bakery would be proud of. It was perfectly golden and round. Even the icing you added turned out perfect. It was even, smooth, and tasted delicious. By the time it was finished the sun was beginning to set. Getting to Logan’s hide out was a task of its own. You had to take back road after back road, traveling over dirt roads and watching your back for anyone who might be following you. By the time you got to the old warehouse and fallen silo the stars are high in the sky.

You see Logan walking from the silo to the warehouse when you step out of your car.

“Hey Logan!” you call out, carefully carrying the cake container.

The man turns his head to glance at you before continuing on his way. You follow behind him, knowing that he would slow down enough to let you catch up. You’re by his side as soon as you step into the warehouse.

“Why’re you up so late? Don’t you normally go to sleep at like six.”

“I stay up late on special nights.”

You squeeze past him and make your way further into the warehouse. Caliban is nowhere to be seen and you’re thankful for the moment alone with Logan.

“Oh? And what’s so fucking special about this night?”

“Well if you’ll remember about two months ago you told me your birthday. Now before you say anything, I know that you told me some random day so I would stop nagging you, but I really wanted to do something special for you.” You set the cake container of the first open flat surface you can find. “So I made a birthday cake and figured we could have a little celebration.”

You hear a deep grumble come from Logan’s chest. “I don’t want a fucking celebration.”

Before he can walk away you grab his arm and tug him closer to the cake.

“Come on. I spent all day making this cake. Are you really going to waste all of my hard work?”

Logan glances at the cake, but still doesn’t seem interested in eating it.

“It’s really good. I promise.”

Logan grunts before finally conceding and moving closer to you. You whip the top of the container off of the cake and present it with a flourish.

“Help yourself! I even remembered to bring forks. No plates though.”

You hand Logan one of the forks that was taped to the top of the container. You watch with anticipation as Logan digs the fork into the cake and takes a bite. Maybe watching the man eat was a little creepy, but you were just excited.

“Cake’s all right.”

He takes another fork full of the cake.

His reaction is less than exciting, but in your experience you know the importance of even the smallest amount of praise. And the fact that he’s still eating is the greatest compliment he could give. 

“So are you just gonna stand there and watch me eat or are you gonna come and taste it for yourself.”

You smile to yourself before stepping next to the man and using your own fork to dig in. It wasn’t much of a celebration, but at least you could make Logan’s night a little better.


End file.
